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FROM OHIO 



ROCKY MOUNTAINS 



EDITORIAL CORRESFONDENCE 



DAYTON -OHIO) JOURNAL 



WILLIAM I). RICKHAM. 

AtTHOR OF " UOSFCItANS WITH THF, FOUKTEF.NTIf ARMY CORPS. 



<y' O' 






D A Y T O N 



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((■ 

\*/^ 1879. 



JOTRNAI, HOOK ANI> .lOIt PRINTING HOUSE. 

1879. 



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Copyri<j;lite(l by Win. I>. liiokli.ini. 



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PR EFAC E 



'Phis (•(iin])ilati(>n is ics^xM'ti'uUy <l('<li('at('<l to my ])ivtlir('n 
of tlioOhio Editorial Association, with wlioni I have enjoyed 
mncli ])leasnro. 

It is eomi)osed of Editorial letters, written originally foi- 
the Dayton JoriJNAL, with no expectation when I was 
writino; them, that they would face the perils of perusal in 
any other form. But persuasions of partial friends prevailed, 
and I concluded to })ublish .my crude correspondence in the 
shape herewith })resented, as a souvenir of a delightful ex- 
cursion, in June, 1871), with the Ohio Editorial Association, 
from Ohio to the Rocky Mountains. 

I sliall not advertise imperfections of the work, for I liave 
abundant coiifidence in the ability of readers to detect them. 
But I take occasion to express regrets that this enterprise 
was not premeditated, for the material T might have com- 
manded, could have been easily wrought into pages of more 
pra(;tical interest. With time, I could have improved that 
which is herewith offered, but my })rofessional brethren, at 
least, will understand the inexoral)le demands of a daily 
pajier ujion the editor who runs it — as I do the Journal. 
Tt must l)e edited and go to press daily, on time. I have had 
little op])ortunity for emendations, or to polish ragged edges. 

But as my ])ages are not thrust upon the pul)lic sj^ecula- 
tivelj^ I shall not stand in awe of critical examination. 



July, 1S70. 



WM. I). BICKHAM, 

Editor of the Dayton .JouRNAr,. 



1 N DEX. 



1. Intioduftioii — Ohio Editorial Association, 

2. An Excnrsive and Discursive Letter, 

3. Kansas Corn, and the Golden BeU, 

4. Topeka, and the Colored Pilgrims, 

5. The Plains, a Baked i^ea, 
(). Breakfast at Wallace, . . 

7. Rounding Up Cattle, . . 

8. Arrived at Denver, . . . 
<). The City of the Plains, . 

10. Monument Park Wonders, 

1 1 . Garden of the Gods, . . 

12. Escalading Pike's Peak, . 
lo. View from the Summit, . 

14. Bumble-Bee on the Peak, 

15. Trip to the Gold Regions, 
1(). Shepherds an A])omination, 
17. Appendix, .,...•• 



Page. 
VII 

17 



31 
41 
49 

50 

66 

75 

84 

ilO 

100 

117 

120 

141 

15(j 

1()3 



INTRODUCTION 



The Ohio Editorial Association was organized at Cincin- 
nati in lS5o. Its origin is imputed to the late Wm. T. 
Coggeshall, rei>orter, editor, Uterateur, and dii)lomatist. It 
contemplated the union of business with pleasure, but rules 
which spread over Ohio proved repellant to the uioral forces 
of local jol) rooms, and advertising cohnnns. A midget 
othce could not thrive on margins that were lucrative to 
large establishments. Hence business was relegated to the 
respective pu)>lishers, and pleasure adopted as the unifying 
princii)le. A si)ice of literature was included to preserve 
appearances. Distinguished editors were invited to deliver 
annual addresses, or read original poems. Banciuets were 
regarded essential for relief and recreation. 

Annual reunions were held where the Association was in- 
vited—with assurances of hospitable entertainment. The 
inviters usually comprehended that advertising in a hun- 
dred Ohio pnpers, l)y reciprocative editors, was a desirable 
tiling. Ollicers were elec{e<l, and hospitalities graciously 
accepted, lieunions were tastefully embroidered by the at- 
tendance of ladies of members' families, who enjoyed all the 
9 



VIII 

luxuries, excepting the right of suffrage. Numbers were 
generally i)r()})ortioned to entertainments, for I think it no 
serious tax upon credulity to say that the profession enjoy 
bountiful banquets and extensive excursions. Such tilings 
are recuperative, and have the ap[)roval of the conscientious 
medical faculty, unselfish life insurance companies, and in- 
vited ladies. 

Among notal)le i)ersons who have had the honor to venti- 
late their opinions before the Association, 1 mention Sam- 
uel S. Cox, then associate editor of the Ohio Statesmnn, who 
had an honorable and)ition to become an editor, but yielded 
to a groveling temptation, degraded himself into a states- 
man, and acce]»ted a seat in congress, where he distinguished 
himself as the chamj)ion garden-seed distributor. Anson (J. 
Chester, of the liuffalo Express, read an impressive poem ; 
Wm. T. Coggeshall, always interesting, offered a fine essiiy 
relating to the press; Gen. James M. Comly, of the Ohio 
State Journal, now resting from his diplomatic resi)onsibili- 
ties as Minister of the United States to the people who set 
the pernicious example of devouring christian missionaries, 
delighted the brethren with a fresh and witty litei-ary essay; 
Wm. 1). Bickham, of the Dayton Journal, gravely disap- 
pointed the eager exj^ectations of an anticipative nndtitude; 
Wm. I). Gallagher, the AVestern poet, furnished one of his 
happiest poems; Samuel 11. Heed and Kichard Smith, of the 
Cincinnati Gazette, in successive years discoursed upon the 
moral engine called the press, the former in that serious 



IX 

vein, which is his ruhiig characteristic, the latter with hu- 
mor, i)ath(>s, and })hil()Sophy combined, temi)ered with that 
pecuhai- piety which distinguislies him as the "truly good"; 
and iinally, Whitclavv Ueid, editor of the New York Tribune, 
who gave us his views <ji the ideal nevvs])aper of the future. 
The Association languished several years preceding the 
war, probably for the reason that excursions were not ofl'er- 
ed. That fine old gentleman, Lecky nari)er, of the Mt. 
Vernon Banner, comi)rehending the situation, galvanized 
the comatose body into animation during his i)leasant presi- 
dency, by engineering an excursion over the Baltimore 
and Ohio railroad to Washington and Mt. Vernon. The 
bi-ethren rallied, and their wives, and their sisters, and their 
aunts, and theii' cousins rallied, with unprecedented en- 
thusiasm, and placed the railway company under lasting 
obligations by the alacrity displayed in accepting their in- 
vitation for a free ride. The cheerful responsiveness of 
numei'ous })ersons who liad written occasional i)ufis and 
paragraphs of affairs in which they were conspicuous, fof 
the I'y.itonswill (Jazette, was esi)ecially noticeable; likewise 
tlu'ir enthusiastic enjoyment of illegitimate press privileges. 
Tills excursion lias been commended as very successful. I 
have no doubt it was. 1 merely remember the lavish lauda- 
tions of the railway comi>any which occupied the press un- 
til the yext reunion. 1 was iiiii>resse<l that Ohio editors 
are as remarkable foi- their pi-ofuse gratitude for recipro«'al 
courtesies, as for their modesty in acce])tiiig them. Yet it 



has sometimes absurdly appeared to me that the railway 
people had quite as much occasiou to feel thankful, siuee 
they could not have obtained half so much valuable adver- 
tising for ten times the cost of transporting the editors. 

Meetings were suspended during the rebellion — most of 
the Democratic brethren, I suppose, being in the army. At 
least I now infer tins fact from their organs. At all events 
there were no reunions from 1<S()0 to 18C5. In tlie latter 
year, President Harper called the Association together at 
Springfield. Everybody's frien#!, the agreeable and hospita- 
ble Clifton M. Nichols, of the Repubhc, was local master of 
ceremonies, and by force of his irresistible magnetism com- 
pelled a unanimous acknowledgment that everything in 
Springfield was chani}>ion, from the Lagonda up to himself. 
And the brethren were persuaded that Springfield was his 
only offspring. 

The Columbus press people imposed enduring ol)ligations 
upon the fraternity by a lavish display of lunatic and kin- 
dred asylums, dumping them into Straitsville coal holes, and 
loading them with luscious luncheon at tlie Athens lAinatic 
Asylum. Lunatic asylums are the alpha and omega* of 
Columbus. Among other graceful courtesies, never suffi- 
ciently acknowledged, the capital newspaper managers per- 
suaded the Association to designate each member as a com- 
mittee to write up special Colum])us features for his news- 
paper. I am not sure whether John IJopley, of the Bucyrus 
Journal, has yet exhausted his branch of the subject. At 



XI 

all events, this clover arrangement redeemed Columbus from 
her previous obscurity, and she has since exhibited symp- 
toms of prosperity. Strange to say, the conventional com- 
mittee on puffs omitted the Columbus taverns. 

Toledo, having no lunatics to display, exhibited the ameni- 
ties of Maumee swamps and grain elevators. Her hospi- 
tality was abundant. Finally, by the sedulous practice of 
liberal Christianity, Isaac F. Mack, of the Sandusky Register, 
captured the moral sentiment of the Association, and was 
elected president. He promptly took possession of Lake 
Erie, its islands, and the wine liouses, in tlie name of the 
Ohio Editorial Association, and has since laid like claims to 
tlie ])ouiidless continent. In 187.S he enticed a numerous 
body of bretliren, and otherwise, to Cleveland, where North- 
ern Ohio hospitality disports itself with generosity mingled 
with modesty and captivating grace. The fraternity, with 
characteristic propriety, li})erally accepted all that was of- 
fered, and satisfied Clevelanders that they really enjoyed it. 
There is no doubt of their sincerity. Mr. Mack, of course, 
was re-elected president, and concluded the happy reunion 
of 187.S, by transporting some two hundred of the brethren, 
their families, self-invited guests, and one or two Cleveland 
newsjiaper men, — who object to the free-jxiss system on 
high moral principles, — over the great Pennsylvania railway 
to Philadelphia, Cape May, and the regions round about. 

In May of this year. President Mack created a sensation 
by announcing the annual meeting of 1871), in the paradox 



XII 

of America, — where they put their pennies into pork, and 
expend the profits in paintings, — togetlier with an excur- 
sion to the Rocky Mountains through Indiana, Illinois, Mis- 
souri, Kansas, and across the Plains to Denver. When the 
Association met on the hSth of June, it was a problem 
whether editors and pu])lishers, or press parasites, were 
most numerous. But it was quickly solved by a short con- 
stitutional rule excluding from the Association and its bene- 
fits, all excepting bona fide editors and publishers of news- 
papers, and their families. This excised about a coach load 
of i^eople who had flocked to Cincinnati with exciting ex- 
cursion expectations. They crowded into the local enter- 
tainments, but were crowded out at the railway depot. 
Doubtless they have avenged themselves by refusing to take 
the newspapers. 

Cincinnati people of all i)rominent avocations cordially 
united with their local press, and took manifest pride in 
maintaining the honorably earned rej^utation of the Queen 
City for liberal and unostentatious hospitality. Their pro- 
gramme embraced a variety of agreeable and interesting en- 
tertainments, concluding with a brilliant banquet on one of 
the illuminated hill-tops, at which five hundred ladies and 
gentlemen were seated. Whitelaw Reid, of the New York 
Tribune, read an interesting and instru(!tive paper on the 
Ideal Newspaper of the Future, and a number of bright 
post prandial speeches were delivered, among which those 



XIIl 

of Charles Foster, of Fostoria, and Miirat Ilalstead, of tlie 
Cincinnati Comnicrcial, were consi)icuous. 

On the morning of June 20th, one hundred and thirty- 
five persons, including about fifty women and children, de- 
parted from Cincinnati for St. Louis on a special lightning 
train, provided l)y the Ohio and Mississippi Railway Com- 
pany, and were safely deposited at their destination. Mean- 
time a large delegation of interviewers of the Globe-Demo- 
crat, had pumped all the political information attainable out 
of each editor. It was a neat bit of enterprise. The Dis- 
patch retorted next afternoon by interviewing the ladies, 
each of whom was positive— ladies are generally positive on 
such subjects — that her husband was the handsomest man 
in the party, and all of whom sneered at the lofty principle 
of woman's rights, and female suffrage. 1 have no doubt 
that they stood in awe of their tyrannical husbands, or per- 
haps were too grateful for the privilege of an excursion to the 
Rockies to offend their lords by candid expression of opinion. 
Gratitude is one of woman's strong points. 

Gentlemen of the St. Louis press were courteous and at- 
tentive. They exhibited the nocturnal virtues of the city 
in an able manner to inquisitive young men ; escorted the 
truly good to church doors Sunday morning; and carried 
them to Shaw's celabitum, and a lager-beer entertainment 
on the fair grounds Sunday afternoon. As the water at 
the fail- ground was uncongenial, it was unsafe to drink it. 
The beer was sanitarial — so my brethren said. In con- 



XIV 

elusion, the generous committee of the Association puffed 
the hotel, amonj^ other things, for charging us the same as 
they do negro minstrel troupes. It was a luxury to the hotel 
keeper to collect his bills for two days from one hundred 
and thirty-five people, and receive thanks for retjuiring set- 
tlement so promptly and exactly. The grateful committee, 
however, were guilty of grave oversight in omitting thanks 
to porters for graciously accepting a gratuity of a quarter 
each for doing the duty for which the landlord paid them. 

On the 21st, accepting the courtesy of a special train of 
new coaches from the Chicago and Alton Railway Company, 
the Association made a memorable flight across Missouri, 
arriving in Kansas City in time to wonder how we should 
climb into it over the bluffs. But the labor of the editorial 
Sysiphus was crowned with success, and at night the breth- 
ren shambled around over the knobs hunting for Ohio peo- 
ple. Next morning the local press, the Mayor, and other au- 
thorities, exhibited the city and introduced us to the Board 
of Trade, where the customary eloquence of the profession 
disported itself in brief acknowledgement of courtesies. 

Near noon, Col. P. B. Groat and Col. Smart, of the Kansas 
Pacific Railway, escorted us to the depot, and on the 22d of 
June the train moved up the Kaw, into the "Golden Belt" 
of Kansas, across the Plains, and into Denver. Thence after 
doing Denver, the brethren surveyed Monument Park ; rev- 
eled in the Garden of the" Gods; escaladed Pike's Peak; ad- 
mired various other marvels in that thaumaturgic region ; 



XV 

returned to Denver, and again radiated into the mountains 
westward and noi-therly, some visiting the gold regions of 
Central City and Cieorgetown, some going to Este's Park, and 
many through the splendid South Park, and over the loftiest 
wagon road in America to the silvery regions of Leadville. 
Thence homeward via Chicago. 

In all aspects the Ohio Editorial Association reunion and 
excursion of 1879, were the most agreeable and instructive 
ever organized by them. Credit for his admirable manage- 
ment is unanimously accorded to President Mack. The 
pleasures enjoyed are indelibly impressed on memory's 
tablets. The impressions of the autlior of the letters which 
form this compilation, will make themselves manifest to my 
readers. 



Letter i. 

An Excursive and Discursive Letter — From Dayton to 
Kansas (Jity — A Witch Kide — Slave-Cursed Missouri — 
No School Houses — A Knol)by City— In the Wrong 
State — Its Vit^^orous (Irowth — OfT for Denver. 

" Singing through the forests, 

Rattling over ridges, 
Shooting under arches, 

Rumbling over bridges; 
Whizzing through the prairies, 

Buzzing o'er the vale, 
Bless me this is pleasant, 

Riding on the rail." 

From the gardens of the beautiful Miami Valley 
to the rugged portals of the Rocky Mountains at 
arid and dusty Denver, is nearly half across the 
continent. The majestic space you span on rails 
with eyes and ever roaming imagination, seems 
measurable only by multiplication of the illusive 
horizon by delirious fancy. As a matter of fact the 
distance approaches fifteen hundred miles, and you 
ricochet from point to point in forty-eight hours. 
A good horseman might compass the distance in 



18 

sixty days of steady travel. An emigrant's team 
would hardly traverse such space in less than the 
fourth of a year. Such is the triumph of modern 
art over natural obstacles. Reality has almost ob- 
literated the dividing line between itself and fancy. 
Human daring laughs at the desolation of deserts 
and mocks at mountains. Announce the discovery 
of gold mines in Symmes' Hole to-day, and before 
Christmas soine Ohio engineer will report the prac- 
ticability of a railway to the North Pole. Before a 
rail could be laid an army of adventurous prospect- 
ors would stake their claims from center to circum- 
ference of the Arctic Circle, and distribute carbon- 
ate and sulphurite specimens to the ends of the 
earth. If only Young America could be persuaded 
that there is a "continuing city" where the streets 
are paved with gold ! 

It is a witch ride over the prairies and plains 
to the mountains. You may be pardoned for the 
frequent apprehension that you are going to the — 
mischief. Whizzing around sharp curves like a 
whirlwind; dashing through rock-ribbed cuts like 
a bolt from a catapult; shooting like a Krupp shell 
over crop-clad prairies now rich in their diversified 



19 

summer garniture of cloth of gold and green, and 
many lined blossoms, and sweeping often with start- 
ling velocity over tlu; desolation of the sun-burned 
plains which expand and stretch out, like a baked 
ocean, daintily frosted with pale green grasses, and 
cacti and sage weed, until they Ijlend harmoniously 
with the fiery horizon, fancy figures the iron horse 
as a furious, slee}>less nightmare, whiUi your dazed 
senses seem to clutch at airy nothing as a trusty 
anchor lor hopeless mental confusion and nervous 
apprehension. There are periods when flying down 
a long, steep grade, to make up lost time, that you 
are oppressed with dread of calamity, and you are 
sensibly relieved when the train slows again to 
clindD laJHjriously toward the distant divide. Again, 
there are times on tiie down grade when you feel an 
irresistible imjudse to shout with enthusiasm un- 
der the ins})iring iuHuence of a wild Inirst of speed 
through miles of splendid cornfields, wliich seem to 
be rushing upon you like an army witli banners. 

The Ohio editorial party were endowed with the 
average susceptibilities of intelligent gentlemen of 
fair moral balance. Lil)erated from the cares of la- 
borious and harrassing avocations, they enjoyed 



20 

their relief from the exactions of business with the 
hilarity of college ])oys in vacation. Hence it was 
no unusual tliini;- durinij; our llight across Missouri 
on the ('hicai;o and Alton Rail way, for them to rise 
in a body and fairly yell with exultation at a mile- 
a-niinute dash. It was a swallow-like skim across 
the fields and forests of Indiana and brilliant prai- 
ries of Southern Illinois on the Ohio and Missis- 
sij)|)i I'oad, from C^incinnati to St. Louis, and licet 
as a lightning train should travel, Init it remained 
for the Chicai^o and Alton "scooting" through Mis- 
souri, to give us an example of railway speed seldom 
e(]ualled and rarely excelled. There w(;re times, 
when the engineer "let her out," that it seemed as 
if the iron horse and his ti'ail would leave the soli<l 
road-])ed and take flight through the aii" like a bird. 
Our superintendent complacently obsei'ved : "Sev- 
enty-five miles an hour!''' We " w(Uit a 'hoo])in'.'' 
Naturally while living we took only a bird's eye 
view of th(! rich prospects on either hand. It was 
a goodly sight to see what nature has done for that 
superb area,, but sad to reflect that here only man 
is a curse to the country. Why do the hardy, in- 
telligent, enterprisij'g, improving sons of the pro- 



21 

gressive North leap clean over all this splendid ex- 
panse from the Mississip])i river to the Kansas line, 
to a country not a whit better in any natural ele- 
ment, and three hundred miles further from remu- 
nerative markets — was the irrepressible reflection 
of each spectator, regardless of i)olitics. I did not 
envy our Democratic associates while the liying 
train was rushing the argument upon them in con- 
fusing convictiveness. The curse of slavery rests 
upon this oldest and richest of Missouri's farming 
domain as distinctly as the brand U])on the brow of 
Cain. Let us ho|)e not as indellibly. We scarcely 
saw a school house in a Missouri village. In Kan- 
sas tlicy parade their })uljlic academies on the high- 
est hill in town, and if there is but one good house 
visible, it is the common school house. What an 
a,l)ounding volume of social and political morality 
in this impressive contrast. There wasn't an editor 
on the train, of either i)arty, who would have hesi- 
tated in expressing his preference for a (piarter sec- 
tion of land in any good Kansas county for his own 
home, to any six hundred and forty acre tract in all 
Missouri. Remove from Missouri her blighting so- 
cial and political curse, and in ten years time her 



22 

population and prosperity will rival that of Ohio 
and Illinois. It is a serious fact for Democratic 
statesmen to ponder, tliat even Northern Demo- 
cratic farmers prefer free Kansas to slavery-cursed 
Missouri. Manifestly when he comes down to busi- 
ness, the Democratic emigrant travels deliberately 
to the conclusion that it don't pay to Ije a Democrat. 
Nevertheless, he remains an Ephraim joined to his 
idols when he goes to the i)olls. He loves to be 
brayed in a mortar. But, — the Chicago and Alton 
road ])isects the oldest farnjing section in Missouri, 
formerly the great hemp and to])acco region of the 
State. Tliese products are now subordinate to corn 
and wheat. This fertile counti'y ouglit to increases 
and wax fat, but it don't, and it ivont, until the old 
})rejudices of the peoi)l(! are eradicated and a nt^w 
civilization supplants tlieir 'semi-barbarism. 

The Chicago and Alton Uailway Company placed 
a special train at the command of the editors from 
St. Louis to Kansas City, under the personal care 
of Superintendent Wood, and (Jeneral Manager 
Charlton. A dining car witli an elegant dinner was 
a. graceful a})purtenant. Distance from St. Louis to 
Kansas City three hundred and thirty-five miles. 



23 

Time of our train, including stops, ten hours. It 
was a phantom flight through a splendid region, 
and none of us Avill forget it. 

We dashed into the northern edge of Kansas City 
— a mile-a-minute — eleven miles in ten minutes. 
If this energetic, thriving city, develops in propor- 
tion to its tumulous distortion it will rival Chicago. 
It is a city of knobs, that will compare diminu- 
tively in altitude with the foot-hills of mountains. 
From the Missouri river and the railways at the 
foot of its site you zigzag into the city at right and 
left, acute and obtuse angles, and on the summits 
you are under fanciful apprehensions of tumbling 
into some unexpected dreadful cavity. There have 
l)een studied attempts at a rectangular arrangement 
of streets, but they unconquerably run into zigzags, 
and in erratic directions. It is not excessive exag- 
g(»ration to say that when you reach the pinnacle 
of a knob you feel as if you were bound to pitch over 
the other side. As nature kindly accommodates 
peo2:)le to circumstances it is not unnatural to ex- 
pect that children born there will be adapted to the 
irregular topography. 

But it is a wonderfully thrifty city, full of busi- 



24 

ness life and energ}^, reaching through Kansas to the 
mountains, and grasping vigorously for Texas trade. 
I know of no city of forty thousand people that has 
impressed me so favorably. Its misfortune is that 
it is in Missouri, and it is a. very serious detriment. 
It checks the removal there of northern capital 
and industry. Its business is unusually large in 
proportion to its population, its thriving manufac- 
turing industries rapidly increasing. The great 
Missouri river, and numerous railways, make it 
a commanding distributing point. Neither St. 
Joseph, nor Atchison, nor Leavenworth, nor other 
rivals, can now retard its progress. Its population 
is chiefly northern and western. Ohio people are 
numerous. Many pleasant brick residences, some 
of them (|uite expensive, adorn its avenues, and the 
country round about is attractive. Business men 
and editorial brethren were courteous and hospita- 
ble to our party. We sj^ent one night and until 
eleven o'clock next day there, when, in special cars 
attached to the regular train, on the Kansas Pacific 
railway, our happy party railed out for Denver, six 
hundred and thirty-nine miles at a stretch, and 
such a stretch it was. 



Letter il . 

Kaw Kiver — A Kiiwii Country — The Hiippy Valleys and 
Aniaizeing Maize Fields — The Rich Soil and Radiant Sun- 
flowers — Lawrence and Bleeding Kansas — An Ohio Free- 
dom Shrieker— The Girl I Left Behind ISIe. 



" Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard ! 
Heap high the golden corn! 
]No j'icher gift has autumn poured 
From out her lavish horn ! " 



The KciAv river Hows into the Missouri at Kansas 
City. The Kaw is, in fact, the northern Kawpora- 
tion line, and when we cross the Kaw we bound at 
once into a Kawn country, and such corn ! We 
promptly held a Kaw-cus to Kawn-sider why the 
Kaw corn should be ten or twelve feet high and in 
tasselated splendor, while our beautiful Ohio Valley 
maize was not exceeding a foot in height. After 
careful Kawn-sideration, it was concluded Kawrect. 
It was also observed that the Kaw valley abounded 
with crows. A tribe of Indians gave it the name 
of Kaw, but I do not know from what Kaws. The 



26 

pale faces Xalled it Kansas river because they de- 
sired to distinguish it from the Arkansas. There 
was a disposition to pun upon the Kaw river, but 
it was severely repressed by a solemn enemy to 
levity, who, when expected to applaud, Kawstically 
said, ''I Kawn't see it." This Kawnfounded the 
company, who lost Kawnection, and agreed to Kaw- 
tion future travelers against a pernicious habit. On 
the whole, it is possible that this fruitful river, as 
turbid as the Mississippi, derived its name from 
Hiawatha, for is it not written that, overhearing a 
conspiracy of the crafty crows, 

"The wary Hiawatha, 
Ever thoughtful, careful, watchful, 
Had o'erheard their scornful laughter 
When they mocked him from the tree tops. 
'Kaw,' he said, 'my friends the ravens! 

] will teach you all a lesson 

That shall not soon be forgotten.'" 

Hence Kaw river, and the presumption is pal- 
pable that the indignant "Hiawatha" got even 
with the crafty enemies of "Mandomin" by eating 
crow. But, oh those beautiful corn-fields, stretching 
far and spreading out magnificently from horizon 
to horizon, which fled away and disappeared in the 
ever dissolving distance, while our impetuous train 



27 

pushed onward in oao^er effort to achieve the no 
mor(^ beyond. The very s]^irit of HiaAvatha seemed 
incarnate in tlie ])hTmed 1)eanty of those resplen- 
dent fields, hundreds of miles in len<»tli and breadth : 

" All uround the hfippy valleys 
Stood the maize fields green and shining, 
Waived the green plumes of Mnndomin, 
Waived his soft and sunny tresses, 
Filling all the land with plenty." 

I shall not soon forget those aniaizeing maize 
fields — say about two hundred miles long, and 
width not measurable by vision. The soil strong, 
rich, and no bottom. The}^ are diversified in a mo- 
saic work of wheat and oats, and varied shades of 
grass — meadow, prairie grass and clover, witli in- 
termingling growths of sunflower wilds and rank 
weeds that must test the piety of the most patient 
granger. The valley is decorated with neat farm 
houses and pretty villages, and the most conspicu- 
ous features in every settlement are the Ameri- 
can emblems of patriotic civilization, pretty little 
churches and commodious school houses. The Ohio 
man was omnipresent. 

Lawrence, the cradle of the great National social 
and political revolution, is not visible from tlie rail- 



•28 

way. You catch onl}^ a glimpse of its glittering 
spires glinting through the groves. The Kansas 
Pacific girdles the northern side and thrusts itself 
aggressively into the rich prairies. The pretty lit- 
tle city nestles in an umbrageous valley, under the 
crest of a l^old elevation southward, monumented 
with a stately University, typical of the spirit 
which created free Kansas. This fine edifice com- 
mands observation ap})rovingh^ miles before you 
glide into the skirts of the city, and the prospect is 
as pleasing as it is morally and reminiscently sug- 
gestive. John H. Green, of the Medina Gazette, my 
companion for the nonce — as well as for agreeable 
nonsense — contributed greatly to the interest of 
the charming view, by imparting fragmentary his- 
tories of the stirring times when he marched upon 
the Border Rufhans with John Brown, under the 
command of Jim Lane. You could readily imagine 
Green as the type of a serious "freedom shrieker." 
While he warms you with winsome expression, his 
sharp black eyes that glitter like glass, and bold, 
firm features, even in amiable repose, satisfy you 
that he did not glance along the barrel of his rifle 
for fun. He was one of the gallant twenty-six at 



29 

Prairie City in 185(), who made Henry Clay Pate's 
g-nno- of Missouri border ruttians "smell liell," and 
scud l)a('k to Missouri. His graphic reminiscences 
of the patriotic struggle for "Bleeding Kansas" 
fixed Lawrence and its sacred region indelibly upon 
memory's trusty tablet, and made me keenly feel 
that the blood of tlie patriot is the seed of liberty. 
Green took up a claim in Western Kansas for per- 
manent settlement, but "The girl I left behind 
me'' enticed him l)ack to the scenes of his boyhood 
and kept him there. If all the girls who are left 
behind had the adhesiveness of Green's youthful 
sweetheart, the destinies of lialf of mankind might 
be changed. Green be her memory. That far Avest- 
ern claim is now the home of my friend's good old 
mother — for whom he deserted the party at the 
station beyond Fort Rih^y to visit her. 

A Massachusetts colony settled Lawrence and 
built a church and school house while camping out. 
They came 

" '•• ''■'■ '■■'■ to plant her common schools 

On distant prairie swells, 
And give the Sabbaths of the wild 

The music of her bells." 

Hence you will understand that the people are in 
telligent and thrift}^, and spell Nation with a big N. 



30 

Many citizens flocked to the station to greet the 
Ohio editors, but I doubt if any were so welcome as 
an old woman with a basket full of liome-made 
ginger-bread. A New York "Pinafore" company 
boarded the train here for Topeka, and entertained 
our car with a spirited rendition, which we never 
heard excelled — that is, hardly ever. 



Letter hi. 

Topeka — The Colored Pilgrims — The Splendid Prairies — 
Geological Features — The Flowers — Pinks and Phloxes, 
Asters and Amorpha, Daisies and Digitali — Abilene — 
Asleep in the Arms of Pullman. 

" O none in all the world before 
Were ever glad as we ! " 



" We hear no more the dinner's horn, 
No more the whip we fear." 



At Topeka a, good dinner awaited the famishing. 
Here we saw the first pilgrims of the Exodus. The 
suburbs were thronged with them, and a blaek mass 
gathered about the depot. Silver cdiange was dis- 
tributed among the poor aspirants for liberty until 
the supply was exhausted — for whieh they requit- 
ed us by moving tales of privation and hardship. 
Upon interrogating Topekans we discovered that 
the pilgrims had ceased to be welcome. They had 
become too numc^rous, and the tax was too heavy 
upon the limited population. In some instances 



32 

even respectable people had mobbed the poor crea- 
tures and burned their cabins to (b'ive them to 
more hospitable settlements. Committees Avere or- 
ganized to provide them with shelter, food, and 
work, but supplies had not ])roved ('(|ual to requisi- 
tions. Those employed for farm and harvest. hands 
were incompetent for northern farming, though 
dilligent and willing enough to laljor. Farmers 
unreasonably complained, I thouglit, that they can 
not even hoe corn, but I suspect that a little prac- 
tice would remedy that deficiency. The pilgrims 
seemed to comprehend the difhculties which beset 
them and were patient and uncom])laining. They 
were simply too numerous at one point. They had 
assumed that the capital of the State was the cen- 
ter of wealth and the proper distributing de])ot. 
They told one story. They had submitted to o])- 
pression as long as it was endural)l(\ and tied from 
Louisiana and Mississippi, to find homes where 
the}^ w^ould be honestly paid for honest work, and 
enjoy the right to life, liberty, and the ])ursuit of 
happiness. They preferred starvation in Kansas 
to oppression in the S(nith. A member of the To- 
pekan relief committee stated that al)out eight 



33 

thousand pilgrims liad rendezvoused at that point. 
They had received from east of the Mississippi 
about twenty thousand dollars in cash, besides food 
and raiment, in addition to their own lil)eral con- 
tril)utions, but tlie amount was sadly inadequate. 
It re(|uires 1)ut brief calculation to demonstrate that 
twent}' tliousand dollars is a small sum foi- such a 
responsibility. It is reassuring to know, however, 
that nine-tenths of the arrivals at Topeka had 
found locations in various parts of the State. We 
saw many in little cal>ins more than a liundred 
miles east of the capital. The story of these \)ooy 
exiles is one of the most pathetic epics in human 
histor3\ How blessed it is to feel that "(}od tem- 
pers the wind to the shorn lamb." 

Topeka Avas the first free State capital of Kansas. 
Here lil)erty was organized and slavery rejxdled by 
the defeat of l)order ruffianism. The city crowns 
a rolling prairie, and from the ridge commands a 
view of a sweeping valle}'. The distant i>rairie 
hills rolling uj) around it seem like vast ramparts 
swelling u\) to catch the rim of the sky and prop 
it as a canopy. These splendid valleys, like* grand 
decorated amphitheaters, are distinguishing and 



34 

enchanting landscape features of the State. As at 
Lawrence, the railways girdle the city on the north- 
ern horder, and yon catch l)ut a glimpse of it while 
you are passing. Loolcing u|) through the main 
avenue from the depot the eye glances upon a gent- 
ly rounding summit, and ski])S off into the sky. 
Near the depot, of course, you may easily hecome 
deeply cultured in the popular street liteniture of 
the age — ^^Beer Saloon f' This reminds me, that if 
the last vestige of the railway track from Kansas 
City across the broad desert to Denver were ol)liter- 
ated, a. tramp could find his way to the gates of the 
Rocky ^^ountains by the double trail of empty 
beer and whisky bottles — not to consider an infi- 
nite variety of fruit and other kinds of cans on 
either side of the road. These replace the vanished 
landmarks of buffalo bones which once made the 
prairies and Plains glisten as if they had been em- 
bellished with polished ivory. The reader will 
please observe that the railway tourist is constrain- 
ed to confine his observations to a narrow gauge 
narration — excepting on occasions when he va- 
grantly Hies into the vanishing horizon or dives 
into a mirage on the thin pinions of volatile fancy. 



35 

AVhon Horace Greeley passed through these then 
almost virgin regions in 1S59, he contemi)lated 
them practically, and saw but little else in the 
present and future of Kansas hut material develo])- 
ment, the growth of "the grand Republican j^arty " 
and ''one-horse politicians/' If he had been the 
corrcspoiKlcnt of "the ideal journal of the future/' 
W^hitclaw Reid would have ejected him from the 
Triljune tower with indignant haste. He was the 
most prosy, if not the least instructive of all the 
literary tourists who have adorned a page with na- 
ture's splendid pictures of Kansas prairies. 

It has not been my purpose to be historical, 
geogra})hical, statistical, sociological, or more than 
fancifully topographical only as it might enable me 
to "point a moral or adorn a tale." For you will 
not forget that I am merely looking out of a car 
window, and skimming over the country twenty 
miles an hour. Bnt I would defy stolidity itself to 
repress imagination or suppress enthusiasm under 
the impulse of the magical pictures that flit through 
the visual and mental kaleido.scope under the in- 
spiration of the electrical atmosphere and the en- 
chanting pictui-es of the prairie pageant. Tha fads 



36 

have been presented to your practical minds in in- 
finite varieties of forms. I.and agents, town-lot 
speculators, railway stimulators, tourists, scientific 
and practical writers without number, have told 
you that the land is rich and every pecuniary pros- 
])ect pleasing; that the hills are ribbed with carbon- 
iferous limestone stratified liorizontally and coming- 
out occasionalh^ on the water courses in prominent 
escarpments; that as we advance it liecomes more 
ferruginous, and that masses of porphyritic granite, 
and ])ebbles of quartz and porphyry become com- 
mon as you progress towards the ne plus ultra of the 
farmer, and soon. So that you now know all about 
the geological and agricultural (jualities of this cyn- 
osure of the modern granger. Still it is pleasing 
to the eye and somewhat like the charming })erson 
who occupies your serious consideration, you like 
to see it and love to talk of it. 1 do anyhow. For 
indeed, the hills and valleys, and sweeping prairies, 
are deftly paraded here under the brightest of blue 
skies, Avhich are always shining upon a brilliant 
parterre of pinks and phloxes, gemmed with asters 
and daisies in dazzling profusion, witli here and 
there the amorpha in rich bloom, the graceful dig- 



37 

italis, and a toani of cluster lilies in a carpet of the 
richest f!;recn ever mixed hy nature's wondrous al- 
chemy. The ])rairic rose is abundant too, and the 
pretty linum and •j,raceful Canterbury bell. But — 
I shall be getting tedious unless I Hy from this 
florid maze. 

Your iron-hoi'se dashes out of Topeka with a snort 
and a shriek into one of the finest of Kansas areas. 
You are in the ''Golden Belt," where the wheat and 
the corn chase each othei" in un1)roken i)rocession 
through the l)rilliant seasons. Ceres here revels 
with Flora in delii'ious amours, and he who unto 
himself hath said, this is my own my glorious land, 
is fortunate indeed. Miles ui)on miles of shining 
corn-fields, interspersed with golden-headed wheat, 
chase each other into the ever vanishing horizon. 
Thrifty orchards and comfortable farm houses di- 
versify the prosi)ect ; the people look prosperous and 
the cattle wax fat. Yet — with all this fascination 
of burnished skies and exuberant nature, combined 
with the excellence of skilful farming, I think he 
would l)e little short of daft who would be willing to 
exchange an acre of our Miami Valley for ten of it. 
Why should anybody in prosperity desire to leave 



38 

Ohio anyhow, for any land this side the Elysian 
fields? But you ride through three hundred miles 
or more of this "valley of Alliama," and it is half 
as wide on either side.. After leaving Ahih^ne 

"The Sjiirit of Sleep, Nepahwin, 
Shuts the doors of all the wigwams," 



" And leaves the night to darkness and to me." 

Ahilene closes the never wearisome pageant with 
crimson skies, and a glaring sunshine ushers you 
next morning U})on the vast Plains, the Cireat 
American Desert. In all the intervening stretch 
of daylight from Kansas City to Abilene, vision is 
delighted and fancy excited into exaltation by an 
almost unbroken succession of charming prospects. 
It was a just union of the poetic with the practical 
to describe it as "tlie (Jolden Belt" — a glittering 
cincture of green and gold blended in exquisite 
harmony. The people who inhabit it are worthy 
of such a country and the country of such a peo- 
ple. The poet might well exclaim when his eye in 
fine frenzy rolls over it, 

" Oh Christ, it is a goodly sight to see 
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land." 

Most of the numerous villages liave a new and 
flourishing aspect, and the characteristic school 



39 

house sits upon the liill-tup advovtisin^i; that "in- 
telligence governs here!" There is hardly a rail- 
way station and village hard-by that is not par- 
tially or essentially Ohioan. And the towns and 
villages have become almost as numerous as in our 
own thrifty State. Of the number we could hardly 
designate any that seemed to present superior at- 
, tractions over friendly rivals; nor, except in a fugi- 
tive way, could we select a choice bit of land that 
appeared to possess superior charms over all that 
vast contiguity of agricultural and scenic excel- 
lence. Fort Ililey of course, claimed sujjeriority, 
but its particular advantage is adventitious. The 
Government has expended several millions of dol- 
lars there. The original Border Ruffian State House, 
where the first territorial government was organ- 
ized under (Jovernor Ueedcr, still stands in that 
vicinity, a monument of the political perfidy of 
slaveocracy — an unfinished stone pile. The site of 
Fort Riley was selected by a poetic as well as mili- 
tary eye, and imposingly embellishes the tine pros- 
pect. At one of tlu? stations a telegram was re- 
ceived from the Oliio citizens of Abilene, which 
sent greeting to tlie Ohio editors, and invited us to 
4 



40 

the hospitalities of the phxce during the suceeeding 
twenty-four hours. The party rehietantly sent re- 
gret^, but when the train pulled into the handsome 
brick station we were greeted with ex(;ellent music 
from a good brass band, and shook hands for a half 
hour with Ohio men and women, chiefly from Trum- 
bull county. The scliool house occupied the peak 
of a commanding hill. The county (Dickenson) 
})ol]s al)out three thousand votes, of which two 
thousand five hundred are Republican. It is su- 
perfluous to remark that the village (two thousand 
four hundred people) is prosperous. The politics 
of Abilene tells that story. 

We pulled out of Abilene into darkness and the 
Plains — about which I will tell a plain tale to- 
morrow. 



Letter iv. 

The Plains!— A Baked Sea — A Plain-Prairie Contrast — 
Monotony — The Gentle Zephyrs — How they Blow Off 
Wa,c:on-Tires — Crossino' the Plains — Looking for Bnffalo 
— Where the Prairies End and Plains Begin— The Great 
American Desert — xV Buffalo Cemetery — Tom Benton's 
Ghost — Sparse Animal Life. 

The Plains! A Dead Sea transfixed in solution 
by a fiery sun, and baked into sterility! And yet 
cooling winds blow here diurnall}^ and noctiirnally 
with unremitting fury. At j\f()notony, the most aptly 
designated loeality in geographical nomenclature, 
the winds bh)\v, not guns, l)ut canons. They gather 
in the titanic rifts of th(^ Rcxdvy ^Mountains as in 
mighty funnels, and i-ush over the unobstructing 
barrenness with tornadic sweep. The Plain man 
who persuaded the credulous philosopher of the 
Tril)une in his "Overland Journey," that the preva- 
lent cy(dones Idow off the tires of wagon \vh(>els and 
straighten tliem out on the Plains, as if on a \'ul- 



42 

canic anvil, scarcely exaggerated. It is a little tire- 
some to digest the story, but we may readily believe 
that the author of it did his ''level best." It en- 
ables the student of mythology to understand why 
Vulcan was the champion blowhard among the 
gods. The south winds of summer, the Indian 
"Shawandasse," like the majesty of the mountains 
where she generates, and the measureless desola- 
tion of the Plains where she viciously disports, 
are c^^clopic. Hence, regardless of the apparent, 
though not real, sterility of the soil, you may 
understand why the Plains are treeless. Groves 
thrive only under the friendly shelter of l)luffs, for 
without this protection the irresistible hurricanes 
would whirl them like arrows into the measureless 
limbo of space. 

But for these winds, furious as they are, the Great 
American Desert would l)c utterly uninhabitable. 
They are deliciously and exhileratingly cool and 
invigorating. When we left Kansas City, an old 
traveler on prairies and plains surprised me by ad- 
vising me to select a seat on the south, or sunny 
side of the car, because the Avinds blow from the 
southward. We were accordingly envied during 



43 

the journey l)y those wlio lind unadvisedly sought 
the shady side. When on tlie Phiins no man thinks 
of shade. The bhizing sun is so tempered by re- 
freshing l)reezes that you are ahnost unconseious of 
its influence, excepting its ghire on the Lavender 
surface and treeless prospect. Anywhere else you 
would imagine the mercury at one hundred and 
thirty degrees — to be moderate — luit here, in the 
glare of noonday, you are unconscious of heat, prac- 
ticall}' insensible of perspiration. An old cow-boy 
who had herded cattle for twenty years said that he 
hardly knew what it was to feel hot on the Plains. 
Blankets are indispensable every night of the sum- 
mer season. And in the winter a man at Monotony 
might find it comfortable in Shadrach's furnace. 

But I have drifted unconsciously out upon the 
Plains. Where the prairies end and the Plains l)e- 
gin is the story of the tadpole and the frog. Night 
closes the scene in verdure clad, and jocund morn 
finds you in barrenness. After Abilene yo^ fold 
your arms and silently bunk away to di'cam in the 
arms of Pullman. At the Plain time for an "eye- 
opener," you are in the silent solitudes of the Great 
American Desert, more lonely than the mariner at 



44 

sea, or the pioneer in the forest that has never been 
blazed. The lichen carpet of the barrens has been 
substituted for the soft mosaics of the garden land. 
The bristling prickly-pear sharply thrusts itself 
through the ashy tinted buffalo grass in odious con- 
trast with the graceful blue-bell that lingers charm- 
ingly in memory. The rough Spanish thistle, the 
chevaux. de frl-^c of tlie Horal kingdom in the west, 
offends the eye with its serrated vigor compared 
with the elegant cluster-lily which graced the prai- 
rie bosom hard-by the last rustic cottage we passed 
in the full glow of glorious sunset. The sombre 
contrast of plain with prairie is as unimaginable as 
it is indescribable. But the novelty of the change, 
and the unic^ue desolation, unlike any creation of 
grotesque fancy, is, nevertheless, interesting. When 
the fiery sun lifted himself above the horizon like 
a great burnished ball of liijuid gold, my first im- 
pression was of a subsiding storm at sea when the 
vast waters roll off in the shining morn in grand 
grayish billows, and lose themselves in glittering 
foam in the vanishing horizon. An emigrant wagon 
laboring in the far distance, with its white cover 
flapping in tlie fierce wind, promoted the pictur- 



45 

esque illusion and furnished for vagrant fancy a 
"painted ship on a painted sea": 

" The fond soul, 
Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss 
Still paints the illusive form." 

In this apparently illimitable sea of monotony 
the variety of its points of interest, whieh com- 
mand attention for hours after you are immersed 
in it, and saturated with its sameness, is surpris- 
ing. But there is more in anticipation tlian in 
realization. To be upon the great Plains and see 
them satisfies the first exaction of the mind. Tlie 
still life before you is charming to the reflective 
only. Animated nature commands universal at- 
tention, hence after the sensation of consciousness 
of being on the Plains the universal longing is for 
a glimpse of antelope and a view of buffalo. Alas, 
when the iron-horse snorted on the Plains the deep 
bellow of the bufi'alo bull was hushed forever. With 
rare exceptions only is the buffalo seen on this line 
of railway. Even his bones, which once made the 
Plains glitter like a marbled cemetery, have been 
gathered and consigned to the maw of the fertiliz- 
ing machine. But the pretty antelope still browses 



4G 

on the nutritious grass of the Plains, and bounds 
over the gray hills with graceful speed when the 
roar of railway trains disturbs his ruminations. 

Speaking of buffalo, by the way, provokes me to 
conjure the spirit of Tom Benton, and demand of 
him why he tickled popular fancy with the fantas- 
tic notion that ''the track of the buffalo is the 
natural track of the locomotive." As a matter of 
fact there is not a railway across the Plains that 
follows the track, or even the general direction of 
the buffalo trail. The railway cuts the trail of tlie 
buffalo almost at right angles. The trails, plain- 
ly visible, lead from southerly to northerly, and 
the railways run west. Benton's notion was that 
buffalo followed the water-courses, and that this 
would be the natural direction of the Atlantic and 
Pacific railways. Observation has shown that the 
wiUl cattle of the Plains cut across lots. I suppose, 
however that poetic license must be allowed to 
^'Old" Buffalo "Bulli(m." 

Some of the party were confident they saw a few 
straggling buffalo during the day, rambling over 
distant hills, and strained their eyes to realize 
their yearnings. A score or more of antelope scam- 



47 

pering over the billowy surface were seen, and oc- 
casionally a ja(;k-rabbit whose assinine proportions 
would justify the Irishman's notion of the father 
of all rabbits. Prairie dogs and little gophers were 
abundant — and this was the total catalogue of 
quadrupedal life visible from the car windows. 
Coyotes and gray wolf are reported occasionally, but 
they seek their caves at daylight and prowl only at 
night. Not a game bird fluttered on the Plains. 
There were occasional meadow larks and gopher 
hawks, but even these were not numerous enough 
to vivify the hard features of the desolate landscape. 
The Plain people said the prairie dog villages are 
tenanted Avith owls, and there are whippoorwills, 
l)ut these are wise birds, and fly onh' at night. 
Not an Indian roams the Plains in all this region. 
Speaking of gophers reminds me that a Wilming- 
ton editor startled propriety b}^ solemnly perpetra- 
ting a joke — a thing of wdiich he had never been 
suspected. He deliberately inquired "what would 
a gopher go for on the Plains?" Nothing w^ould 
appease the insatiable monster but the profound re- 
ply, "(lO for grub." The party threatened to "go 
for" him ;it Denver, You may infer from this that 



48 

the company, in the course of a few hour^s gazing 
upon the vast vacuity on either hand, had reached 
an extremity when it was the phiin (hity of some- 
body to say something for relief. 



Letter v. 

Wallace — A Plain Menu — Antelope Fried, Broiled, and 
Fricasseed, with Flapjax — Where "Buffalo Bills" Germi- 
nate — Adobes — Pbiin Nomenclature — Gopher, Eagle Tail, 
and Wild Horse — Weary Emigrants — American Arabs — 
Mirage — That Girl Again. 

The heavy train — nine passenger cars — of which 
three were editorial, labored along hmguidly after 
several hours of daylight on the Plains, until we 
passed Fort Wallace — which resembled a circus on 
a city common — bar'ing the fresh grass — and pull- 
ed in at Wallace Station for breakfast. Here ani- 
mated nature was seen at picturesque advantage. 
It was somewhere about nine o'clock, and most of 
us had fasted twelve hours. There was a modest 
Ohio rush for the l)reakfast room, for a smart glance 
was assurance that somebody would be required to 
wait for the second table, and there were gaunt ap- 
prehensions of famine for the dilatory. Perhaps 
no rush of railway travelers was ev(^r more thor- 
oughl}" or happily surprised. The breakfast was 
admirable, well cooked, well served, and bountiful, 



50 

and delicatel}' tempered with a bon 'houche of ante- 
lope, sweet, tender, juicy, delieioiis — a disli fit for 
the gods — of the Ohio Il]ditorijd Association. More- 
over, th<^ Landlord astonished us by encouraging us to 
"take your time;" "the train will wait;" "there's 
plenty for everybody," and so on. Above all, the 
coffee was good; the milk delicious and creamy, 
pure (New) Jersey; the butter solid, yellow as gulch 
gold, and aromatic. If I were put upon my 'davy, 
I would swear that outside of a California, mining 
camp, or after escaping from one of jVlcC'lellan's 
rapid movements on the Chickaliominy, or after a 
long day's good fishing at Peelee, I never so thor- 
oughly enjoyed a square meaL There were eleven 
kinds of meat, all good : • 

Plain A ntelope ! 
Beef, tender and jnicy ! 
Antelope, fried with gravy ! 
Mntton, fat and tender! 
Antelope, sweet and gustatory ! 
Lamb from Jacob's firstlin,t2:s! 
Antelope, broiled and l)uttere(l ! ! I 
Ham, Ohio ham ! 
A-n-t-e-1-o-p-e choi)s ! 
S-p-r-i-n-g chicken ! 
Ant-elope ! Yum-yum-yum ! 
Phlapjax ! 



51 

Then add canned meats, canned fruits, canned 
vegetables and fresh — with tlie condiments, and 
"tell me ye winged winds" "what are tlic wikl 
^vaves saying?" The icgidar price was seventy- 
five cents — Ohio editors fifty cents! Phcebiis! It 
was a l^lain l)reakfast after alL The morale of the 
entire passenger list of the train was completely re- 
established when even the third table came out up- 
on the portico too full for utterance. A party of us 
who had packed our viandum at Kansas City with 
Boston baked beans, cr;!b-ap})lc jelly and the like, 
against contingencies, were i-eady to sell out cheaply. 
We shall forever hold the eating-house at Wallace, 
in the (ircat Desert — the most tasteless desert we 
had — in ap})etizing rememljrance. 

The station consists of a water-tank, a little 
freight cabin, a round-house, a neat frame eating- 
house with a, ^pniy foiDitain / and an evergreen in 
a grassy enclosure in front — which imparts to the 
premises an elysian aspect, contrasted with the 
surrounding desolation. A hundred yards away 
there are tlirc^e or four cal)ins and a grocery where 
merchants sell the rarest of lighting whisky. These 
are the places where your " Buffalo Bills" and " Dead 



52 

Shot Jacks" are generated. Wallaee is twelve hun- 
dred miles from home and still in Kansas. Mo- 
notony, of which I have told you, is in Kansas like- 
wise, the next station but one westward. 

Wallace is a metropolis compared with Monotony, 
or other stations on the road westward to Denver. 
These generally consist of a cabin, a dug-out — hole 
in the ground — covered with slahs imported from 
the timber region, occasionally an adobe — or rather 
terrero — hut of Plains sod cut into strii)s and laid 
with the grass side down. Such tenements are cool 
in summer and warm in winter. They are dyked 
at the corners to prevent cattle from corrading 
them. The population ordinarily consists of a sta" 
tion agent, his baked wife and their ])r(\geny, with 
a dog or six. Where the population is a little more 
numerous the addition consists of hunters or herd- 
ers, who lodge in chig-outs, and there is generally a 
cattle corral a})purtenant. Wallace and its adjacen- 
cies are on the border of the cattle range. 

The nomenclature of the stations is often derived 
from obscure, fanciful, or traditionary incidents, or 
from peculiarities of the region. Hence Gopher, 
Eagle Tail, Cheyenne Wells — because there are no 



58 

wells there: First View — probably of Pike's Peak, 
but not visible to us; Kit Karsoii — after tlie front- 
iersman, — once a city of live tlionsand people, Init 
tenanted now only by the station ai2;ent and his 
family; Wild Horse; Mirage — from the unusual 
frequency in tliat neighborhood of striking and pic- 
tures(j[ue optical illusions; Deer Trail, and so on. 
One is a general model of all, until you a})|)roach 
Denver, when settlements imjn-ove, and you push 
into the grazing country and find a thousand cattle 
on a hill. The I'ailway itineraries furnish the trav- 
eler with the incidental information desirable in 
the way of names of stations, distances, altitudes 
and the like, and a smart interviewer will readily 
pick u]) some old cow-boy or forty-niner of the Plains 
who will make it lively enough with fiction, for it 
is an essential i)art of the religion of your thorough- 
bred rover of the Plains nevei* to spoil a good story 
for want of facts. 

After several hours contemplation of the Plains, 
you are probably as well ac(|uainted with their gen- 
eral physical characteristics as you would ])e after a 
month's topographical survey with nature's instru- 
mentalities for observation. The l)Oundless conti- 



54 

guity of space, sunshine and desolation, are most 
im2)ressive, even from the car windows. The ocean 
is not more siknit or solemn, and I fancy that mel- 
ancholy men adrift in this mute sea would exclaim 
with pitiful pathos: "Oh solitude, solitude, where 
are thy charms?" It is a strange inconstancy, or 
an overpowering spirit of vaga})ondage that invests 
these dreary and dismal wastes with fascination for 
the civilized Arabs of our own population. And 
yet the restless emigrants are still "going, gone, 
and still to go." Their white "schooners" fre(pient- 
ly fleck this terrene sea, and wonder grows apace 
that any man, especially a man of family, should 
have pushed remorsely, if not recklessly, through 
the fertility of the almost incomparable prairie 
land into these inhospital)le ])arrens. But still the 
hardy pioneer, with speculation in his eye, pushes 
on and ever onward, aspiring to the misty moun- 
tain to})S that leagues upon leagues beyond, lift 
their lofty peaks toward the empyrean. It must be 
oppressively Avearisome to the plodding emigrant 
with his sluggish mule team, to be passed and re- 
passed a hundred times on his way westward by 
the scornful iron-horse. I could hardlv endure it 5 



55 

and Avoiild fnintically "break for tall timber" — or 
rather, to l)e accurate, for a trail across the plains 
where I would escape the demoralizing exaspera- 
tion of the railway. I can comprehend the capti- 
vating spirit of adventure that led the forty-niner 
to scorn space and savage wastes in his eager thirst 
for California gold, or the fascinations of the in- 
hospitable wilderness of the far West for the pio- 
neer who sought new fields to conquer into civiliza- 
tion, but now that the Plains are as familiar to civ- 
ilization as ])eer gai'dens in the paradox of America, 
it appears to me like lunacy — certainly it is wretch- 
ed economy — to hitch up deliberately and tug a 
huiKh'cd days laboriously to reach what, after all, 
in most instances, proves to be a Rocky Mountain 
range of diappointment. The i)oetry of emigration 
to the; west has vanished. But you would be sur- 
prised to <.)l)serve how many continue to plod west- 
ward in this tedious way. The commons around 
Denver are camps of emigrants going onward. 
I^arge numbers of tliem are })ulling out daily for 
Washington territory, over the mountains yet, and 
a thousand miles away. And there is also a strong 
eddy of returning emigrants. Tlie disap[)ointed 
5 



56 

returning hastily and despondently the way tliey 
went a few months, or perhaps a year or two before. 
The men are morose, and the women endure un- 
complainino-ly — that is to say, they forbear before 
folk to give exj^ression to the intensity of disgust 
which lowers in their tell-tale countenances. lUit 
if men go and come, women must. 

Excepting the rude ranches of herdsmen, railway 
stations, and wooden snow-guards — board fences — 
about five feet high, on the windward sides of the 
track ; the myriads of glossy cattle as ^^ui approach 
Denver; picturesque herdsmen galloping over the 
scarcely var^^ng landscape, or an occasional hunter 
with his gaunt antelope bounds; the little gopluu'- 
hawk; the chii'ping meadow-lark,' with melancholy 
music in his plaintive^ song; th(^ "peerf* and saucy 
prairie dog^ — a hyl)rid of rat and S(|uirrel — and 
graceful antelope scudding in pairs or herds over 
the distant billows, the only reliefs to the ever- 
searching eye, strained until it aches in delusive 
pursuit of vanished buffalo, are the sparse and 
stunted minor flora of the i)lains, which you may 
enumerate on your fingers; occasional variations 
in topographical features, where one undulation is 



57 

more sweeping than another, one blufi inore abiaipt 
than its twin, or one little area in a valley has 
been more favored with dilatory dampness than its 
neighboring island of the Plains; processions and 
chimps of dwarfed though thrifty cotton-wood — the 
"tree of the desert," — designating pools that rise 
from a sunken stream, or the erratic line of a va- 
grant water-course that swells into a turbid torrent 
when the autumn rains fall and the spring snows 
dissolve, and sinks out of sight, leaving only a 
channel of dazzling sand, frosted with alkali, after 
the snow disappears; and last, and most striking 
of all, the beautiful but tantalizing mirage which 
ever mocks the thirsty emigrant and deluded hunter 
with visions of illusive pools of refreshing water. 

"These sol't illusions, dear deceits," 

are almost continuous features of your dismal jour- 
ney, but they pleasantly relieve the tedium of travel. 
They are especially striking at Mirage, fnmi which 
a station a hundrc^d miles west of Wallace derives 
its realistic name. Standing on the rear platform 
of the train, tluiv seem to follow you veritable uinii 
fatuui. until tlie vision refuses to be longer deceived. 



58 

They are dreamy pictures in water colors, painted 
by the sun on the atmosphere: 

"Lakes that shine in mockery nigh." 

It is plienomenal that the mirage of the desert 
takes tlie form of a refreshing pool or lake, witli in- 
distinct borders, while that of a great body of water 
assumes that of ships or delightful landscapes. Mi- 
rage, my dear i/ouncj readers, is French, from tlie 
Latin miroi\ to wonder, and is pronounced iiicnizhe. 
It is an optical illusion arising from an unequal re- 
fraction in the lower strata of the atmosphere, and 
causing remote ol)jects to be seen double, as if re- 
flected in a mirror, or to appear as if suspended in 
the air. We may add that there are mental and 
sentimental mirages, as well as visual dece})ti(>ns. 
One of tlic mental ])l)enomena is Avhen men fancy 
snakes in their 1)Oots; or, "see millions in it." One 
of the sweetest of sentimental delusions is wlien 
ycni fondl}^ fancy tluit your girl loves you more than 
tongue can tell. If you are too long absent the de- 
lusion vanishes — when she goes l)a(5k on you and 
marries another fellow. She merely changes the 
delusive vurcuje to the shai-p reality of marriage. 
Don't you forget it. 



Letter vi. 



A Visual Strain — The Divide — Buffiilo Grass vs. Lichens — 
Fifty Acres for a Steer — Plain Boquets — Cacti and Spanish 
Thistles— Wells and no Water — Mirage — First View of 
Pike's Peak — Rounding Up Cattle. 

" There is a bleak Desert, where dayhght grows weary 
Of wasting its smile on a region so dreary. 
There is a lone Pilgrim, before whose faint eyes, 
The water he pants for but sparliles ani flies." 

B}' noontide the strain upon your visual organs 
begins to get irksome, but the resources of a pleas- 
ant party are infinite. Reading is out of the ques- 
tion, for besides the apprehension that some vaga- 
bond buffalo may escape your observation, your 
mind seems to have become dissipated and rejects 
otherwise natural food. At this time any sort of 
nonsense is a relief. A station Avhere the train 
stops, or any rude r^mche, be it ever so homely, is 
restful, and you read with a sort of grim humor 
on the friendly fing(^r-board on a. telegraph pole — 
"Denver 200 lo miles!" They cut miles in these 



60 

solemn distances into infinitessimal fractions. And 
miles become long enough while you are slowl}^ 
climbing in the omnijiresent glare to Cedar Point, 
the lofty ridge which divides the great water-sheds 
of the Platte and the Arkansas rivers — five thous- 
and six hundred and sixty-four feet above the level 
of the sea, or more than five thousand feet above 
the level of Dayton. This is the loftiest railway 
point between the Mississippi and the mountains, 
and is five hundred and twenty-seven feet above 
Denver. 

In a previous letter, I mentioned the lichen like- 
ness of the buffalo grass, which gives the prevalent 
tint to the face of the Plains. It presents the gen- 
eral appearance of our western lichens, which are 
the parasites of logs and rocks. Fremont describes 
it as moss-like, but moss has many tints, lichens 
are generally grayish. You would as soon think of 
turning a steer loose on a field of dry forest leaves 
for nourishment as to hope for nutrition from the 
apparently desiccated buffalo grass. Nevertheless, 
millions of buffalo have tlirived upon it through all 
time, and a quarter of a million or more of Texas 
and Colorado cattle now wax fat upon it each re- 



61 

curring season — preferring it to the more juicy 
grasses of the i)rairies. Bunch grass simpl}^ grows 
and decays with the seasons. The young cacti is 
the ho vine asparagus, which accounts for the scrub- 
hiness of the phmt in maturing summer. A herds- 
man informed me that it requires lifty acres of buf- 
falo grass to fatten a steer for market. Four acres 
of Ohio pasture will do as much for our superior 
cattle. But we feed in addition. 

The railway guide-book cheers you with the pros- 
pect of water at "Cheyenne Wells." It is a mental 
mirage. There are no wells within miles. They 
are far to the northward. They were sunk some 
years ago by the Overland Stage Company, and the 
railway company appropriated the name because 
the station was in that neighborhood — that is, a 
day's canter away. This is holding the word of 
promise to the ear and breaking it to the heart. A 
train of platform cars with tanks told the story of 
water at Cheyenne Wells. It is transported from a 
point many miles westward. And, like water in 
the gold mines, is worth about a cent a gallon. The 
wear}^ passengers broke ranks lu^re and gathered 
Plain bouquets of cacti blossoms and Spanish this- 



62 

ties — the former white, yellow and maroon, the lat- 
ter not yet blooming. 

At First View every glass was leveled to catch a 
glimpse of Pike's Peak, one hundred and fifty miles 
away, but the atmosphere was too hazy. This, b}^ 
the way, was the first political digression on the 
journey, and the inconsiderate punster who said 
Hayes}' was sentenced to pay two kegs of beer at 
the first brew^er}' on the Plains. Neither politics 
nor punning were tolerated among the conscien- 
tious Ohio editors. 

Next we loitered at Kit Karson, which, a few^ 
years ago, was a thriving young city of five or six 
thousand emigrants. In the course of a we(^k the 
entire city was removed westward, and nothing 
now remains but a lonely station, a cabin or two, a 
corral, and a water-tank. This was a speculative 
mirage. A branch railway from Los Animas, on 
the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway south, 
here connects with the Kansas Pacific. Tt is dead 
property, and out of use. 

After winding tediously through deep cuts and 
up lieavy grades that sometimes tested the mettle, 
if not the metal, of our iron-horse, we at last en- 



6B 

tered upon animated scenes. Our normal vivacity 
resumed its sway. The windows and platforms 
were crowded with spectators eager to see cattle 
on a thousand hills. Thick as they flocked on the 
rolling Plains, the herds were yet more numerous 
in the more verdant valleys of the water-courses. 
Ranches and corrals followed each other in agreea- 
ble succession, and sometimes a neat cottage adver- 
tising an approach to rustic luxury excited general 
approbation. The ladies exclaimed, "0 isn't it 
sweet!" There are occasions away from home, you 
know, when you really feel glad to meet the fellow- 
citizen to whom you are thoroughly indifferent in , 
your daily walk. So upon these solitary Plains a 
cabin with any woman in it and a hollyhock in the 
yard, will beam upon your grateful vision like a 
thing of beauty. The glossy cattle browsing on the 
crests, and the rude but graceful horsemen carelessly 
galloping over the billows, in contrast with the ab- 
solutely still life of the Plains, formed a spirited 
picture. Now we entered a station that seemed to 
bo a gonc^ral rendezvous for cow-boys. Tlic Plain 
was dotted with their camps. A corral larger than 
usual occupied a slope. On a crest some distance 



64 

onward, masses of cattle were concentrated in un- 
easy motion. A score or more of vigilant horse- 
men wer3 stationed at intervals nround them like 
commanders ordering a column massing for a charge 
in battle. Now and then one of them made a reck- 
less dash into the apparently impenetrable herds, 
and not long afterwards an interval appeared be- 
tween the mass and a small ''bunch" of cattle. 
Presently two or three other cow-boys dashed in 
and completed the separation of the "bunch" from 
the herd. Occasionally a single fractious steer stam- 
peded, and then a wild race ensued to drive him 
back to position. The scene was animated and ex- 
citing. Sometimes a dozen stampedes occurred sim- 
ultaneously, and the ardor of the chase was en- 
hanced accordingly. The process of separation, or 
"rounding up," continued while our train drew 
slowly up the grade and out of view behind an en- 
vious cut. During the spring and early summer a 
number of herdsmen drive their cattle together and 
permit them to feed in common until the calves are 
large enough to brand. They then sei)ara.te them, 
or "round up," as they term it, brand th(^ir calves, 
re-brand older cattle, and turn them out again. Mis- 



65 

takes seldom occur. The calves know their hranded 
mothers, and each herdsman knows his own brand. 
When there is a sharp dispute there is a funeral. 
Perhaps there were five thousand cattle in the herd 
we saw "rounded up." The Mexican hucharo^ — 
cow bo3^'^ — who formerly monopolized this business, 
have retired l)efore the Western American, and are 
rarely seen among the herds on the Plains. But 
3-0U will find them on Texas ranches. 



Letter vn. 

The Mountains — Disembarking at Denver — City of the 
Plains — A Colorado Welcome — ^A Lively Metropolis — 
Mining Nomenclature — Site of the City — Delusive Dis- 
tances — Gateway to the Mountains — Denver a Misnomer 
— Auraria — Mines and Cattle the only Reliable Connner- 
cial Resources. 

" Now I am in Arden, 
When I was at home 
I was in a better place." 

At length the heavy train was. dragged lal)ori- 
ously to Cedar Point, the grand eontinental divide 
of the great waters which flow nortli and south. 
We were five thousand six hundred and sixty-ioui- 
feet above the level of the sea. The numntains now 
loomed upon us in their battlementinl grandeur. 
Pike's Peak to the southward, Long's Pc^ak to the 
northward, towered in haze and clouded glory. The 
spectacle was superl). The weary tourists felt re- 
quited for their long and tedious travels, and were 
refreshed. The splendid scene was like the first 
view of land after a long voyage at sea. Descend- 



67 

inu' ui'adc hence to Denver, we swooped down upon 
tlie valleys of tlie Platte, and rejoiced when, stiff' 
and sore with much shaking and pounding, we 
found ourselves at last in the capital of Colorado. 

Disembarking at Denver, after our vibratory voy- 
age — irksome and jerk-some — across the alkaline 
waste, might be compared with landing after a 
tedious cruise on the ocean. The preparatory haste 
and turmoil are similar, and the uproar at the 
crowded de})ot not unlike the confusion of a bustling 
seaport. The contrast l)etween the close coniine- 
ment of the cars, and comparative isolation of the 
(h'cary Plains, and the riotous rumpus of unloading 
in a sudden city where everything seems going at 
a gallop; where nothing l)ut the moral intluence of 
a hij)-])()ckct ajipears to restrain violent hackmen 
from taking forcible possession of jaded journey- 
men, assumes sometliing of the nature of delirium, 
which re(iuirics the doubtful luxury of a dusty 1)US 
ride, or the restful ncss of a four squares' walk to 
lodgings, to restore your balance. Your sensations 
are simihii- after any wearisome railway ride, but 
they are more intense at the end of a protracted 
journey across the prosy Desert, 



6S 

I had heedlessly conceived that Denver was a 
mountain city, hedged in by frowning battlements. 
It is essentially a city of the Plains, apparently, 
though not really, under the shadow of the moun- 
tains. It spreads over an undulating site, which 
affords line facilities for sewerage. Approaching it 
from the east, it deceptively appears to be at the 
base of a lofty ridge bounding suddenly into a bold 
horizon, but the railway enters it upon an easy 
grade and lands you on a level near the banks of 
the South [*latte river. The foot-hills swell into 
graceful rotundity a half-day's walk to the west- 
ward, and the mountains fifty miles beyond leap 
suddenly into snow-clad summits that glitter in 
the sunshine like masses of polished silver. Tlie 
general prospect is attractive, and in some aspects 
very striking. The blazing sun setting in cloud- 
less grandeur behind the majesty of Long's snow- 
crowned peak, consecrated the first view of Colo- 
rado's capital to us, as "a tiling of beauty and a 
joy forever." 

We had been admonished that tbe hotels Avere 
crowded, and so telegraphed for accommodations. 
The precaution was wise, for even with this pre- 



69 

vision lodgings were obtained with difficulty, (rcn- 
tk'nien fortunate* enough to be accompanied l)v 
their wives were first accommodated. The rest of us 
had to prospect for quarters. The hotels and private 
boarding-houses were thronged with miners, specu- 
lators, and other travelers. Up})er lloors of vacant 
warehouses were appropriated hy inn-keepers for 
lodgers, and parlors perverted into sleeping cham- 
bers. My old (.Cincinnati friend, Wm. B. ("Billy") 
Smitli, who seems to be recognized as a sort of pro- 
prietor of Denva^r, .met me trami)ing in anxious 
pursuit of a peg to hang upon, and through his 
uj'gent and somewhat })eremptory intercession I 
was accommodated with one of the best apartments 
in the l)est house in the city — (^harpiot's. Some 
of tile unlucky editors wandered al)out until the 
hours of night grc'w long before they were settled. 
^'oll will better com prebend the situation upon re- 
volving the fact that during the i)ast three months 
no less than thirty-nine thousand visitors have 
registered at Denver })u]jlic houses. And still they 
come — and go. 

(h)v. Pitkin, Mayor Sopris, Col. Vickers, Presi- 
dent of the Colorado Press xVssociation, and Her- 



70 

man Bockurts, of the Tri])uno, greeted the Ohio 
editors in ii formal mec^ting next morning, and sub- 
sequently justified their agreeable assurances l)y 
heart}^ courtesies — a ride about the city and sul)urbs; 
an exhibition of the Holly system of water works, 
and a big lager-beer brewery; closing with a 
nice entertainment at the residence of Mr. Wolfe 
Londoner. C'itizens generally, and especially Ohio 
men, were generous in their attentions, and the 
party were made comfortal)le. 

A stranger (piickly appreciates that he is in the 
midst of business. The commercial streets are 
thronged with traders from the mountains, with 
miners and cattle drovers. Long lines of expectant 
men in single tile at tlie post-oflice windows I'e- 
minded me of the early days of San Francisco, 
when waiting for a, letter was a.n event in a man's 
life — sometimes a sad one. And yet there was 
more of the repose of a settled city than T had an- 
ticipated. There was also a- genei'al absence of 
frontier ruggedness that made it difficult to realize 
that this brisk metropolis of solid l)rick and stone 
is the creation of a singh^ score of years. The gam- 
bling feature of western mining cities, liowever. 



71 

was pr(u]()ininant. (Tain])linf»; is th(3 open appurte- 
nant of many saloons, and the Mazinu' lights from 
upper windows at night advertised "hell" to the 
wary. You see but little of the cow-boy features 
of the frontier settlements, but oriental "John" 
glances indifierently at you with his almond eyes 
at every corner. The common conversation is of 
Leadville, of " carbonates," of " prospects," " strikes," 
"high-grade," "out-crop," "pockets," "drifts," and 
the like, and occasionally of gold. It is mostly of 
silver "carbonates," sometimes of "sulphurets" and 
"pyrites" of gold. The silver man usually has a 
"pocket full of rocks," or can show you rich car- 
bonates "if you will accompany me to my room." 
Strange to say I did not see a beggar or a drunkard 
in the streets. Saloons of all kinds were in the 
usual metropolitan proportion, though less numer- 
ous than was anticipated. Public museums for the 
sale of mountain curiosities were rather indifferent, 
the stock in trade consisting mainly of mountain 
])elts, a few rare pebbles, and mineral specimens. 
I inferred that this special trathc is not strikingly 
remunerative. Most tourists prefer collecting their 
own mineral specimens in the mountains, and are 
6 



72 

shrewd enrniirh to know that they can purchase 
Rocky Mountain or PLain pelts cheaper at home. 
The hxrge higer-beer brewery of which Mr. R()l)ert 
McCorniick, a former citizen of Dayton, is a pros- 
perous proj)rietor, is a prominent feature. The 
editors were choking with Denver (hist when they 
entered ^TcCormick's hospitable doors, 1)ut resumed 
their I'ide through the city apparently refreshed. 
Several truly good men, who had never before — 
that is, hardly ever — tasted the l^everage, approved 
the McCormick brew. Perhaps it would be more 
exact to say that they had never l)efore sampled 
lager l)i-ewed in Denver. As yet the worm of the 
still has not found its abiding i)lace in Denver, and 
is not likely to l)e a cons])icuous feature in the fu- 
ture, unless grangers succeed in irritating the soil 
until it ])roduces a surplus of corn. 

The city was wisely as well as tastefully located 
— shrewdly for commercial purposes, and wisely 
for sanitary advantages. Few metropolitan })ros- 
pects e<|u;d that, which is a never-ceasing object 
of admiration in Denver — the noble perspective of 
snow-clad mountains in the west, trending north- 
ward, which almost seem toppling over the church. 



73 

steeples of tlH* <'ity. It is iiiip()ssil)lo to decide 
whether they are most admirable in the glitter- 
ing majesty of sunrise or in the hazy glory of 
evening. You will hardly fail to notice, however, 
that the mountains appear more distant while the 
shades of evening draw their shaHowy profiles on 
the Plains than in the brilliancy of a pure morn- 
ing, when the glare seems to enlarge all mountain 
forms into exaggerated proportions and to contract 
the limits of space. The untutored eye is an unre- 
liable mensurator in this clear atmosphere where 
distances stretch into infinities. Denverites have 
a local story of an Irishman illustrating the decep- 
tiveness of optical measurement. Paddy proposed 
a walk from the hotel to the mountains before 
breakfast. After tramping several hours a cow-boy 
observed him at an irrigating ditch a foot or two 
in width, stripping off liis clothing. Quoth the 
cow-boy: "Why are you stripping?" "Bejabers," 
replied I\it, ''d'yees think I'm going to wet me 
clothes; Tm going to swim this river." The cow- 
f)oy in amazement responded, "Why man, you can 
step over it! " " Not a hit of it, ye spalpeen," quoth 
Pat, " vcos can't fool me agin. I started from Denver 



74 

to the mountains for a morning walk, and yees sees 
where I am. Distances is clesayvin in this bhirstecl 
country. Til swim." It is ofiicially recorded that 
when Lieutenant, afterwards General Zebulon Pike, 
discovered Pike's Peak from the Plains, in 180B, 
he supposed he was within a few^ hours ride of it. 
Upon measuring the distance afterwards, he ascer- 
tained it to be one hundred and thirty miles. 



Letter viii. 

Portal of the Mountains —Denver a Misnomer — Anraria — 
Arcbiteotnre — Business Prospects — Mines and Cattle the 
Princii)al Resources — Great Sheep and Cattle Pegion — 
Water Supplies — The Denver Press — City of Pivulets — 
Flowers and Trees but no Sward. 

"A rolling stone gathers no moss." 

Denver is the gateway to the mountains as well 
as the natural center of travel from the east, north 
and south. The great highway from the east, the 
Kansas Pacific Railway, found Denver its natural 
western terminus. From it the routes of travel 
into the mineral regions radiate, and from it you 
move northward to the open country, and south- 
ward to Xew Mexico and the regions round about. 
The discovery of gold and silver has reduced the 
formidable barrenness of the west to man's sub- 
jection, and judging from the railways whi(di climb 
the perpendiculars where the American Ibex was 



76 

vainly imagined to be monarch of all he surveyed, 
I am 23repared to anticipate a system of elevated 
railways at no distant day from peak to peak where 
Alps on Alps arise, for I declare unto you the rail- 
ways of the Rocky Mountains are climbing where 
birds would hardly venture to fly — if you will par- 
don a Plain draught on reckless imagination. 1 
ascended a mountain in railway cars at which a 
mule would l)alk — zig-zagged it. 

Settled first in l.So-S, Denver, just of age, lias, per- 
haps, a population of thirty thousand. I feel l)ound 
to protest liowever against the change of its name 
from the original. Its founders, deluded pilgrims 
to be sure, prettily named it Aurarla, on the deceit- 
ful supposition that it w^as the site of gold diggings. 
Mica deluded them. A partial friend who possessed 
influences, complimented General J. W. Denver, of 
Clinton county, Ohio, by changing the name in his 
honor. General Denver never saw the city until 
a year or two ago. The Legislature of Colorado 
should restore the original Auraria. Laid out at 
right angles with broad streets, which are being 
solidly walled in with spacious jjrick and Rocky 
Mountain stone buildings, it has an assuring pres- 



77 

once of permanence, and its architecture, commer- 
cial, (louiestic, and ])ublic, will compare favora])ly 
with much older cities in eastern States. Some of 
its warehouses are more spacious than any in Day- 
ton: a number of its dwellings would 1)e styled oruji- 
mental in any city, and several of its church edi- 
tices are (luite tasteful. Its streets, unpaved l)ecause 
thcv are naturally as solid as our uraveled thor- 
oughfares, arc^ generally shaded with cottonwood, 
l)ut many of the more wealthy people have im- 
ported varieti(^s of umbrageous trees from eastern 
States. The gutters are running streams of pure 
water, supplied artificially l)y ditches which lead 
from the Platte. Water for domestic purposes is 
supplied by the Holly system of water-works, and 
the city is lighted with gas. Large nunil)ers of 
spacious war(diouses and of dwellings now build- 
ing, give assurance of rapid growth, as well as of 
the confidence of the people in permanent progress. 
There is nothing, apparently to retard its growth, 
but tlie failure of the Iloeky ^[ountains to yield 
minerals. Wliile Denver impressed me as a good 
point for voung business men of modi-ratc capital 
and fixed moral character, I would say unto you. 



78 

young men, stay where you are unless you are rea- 
sonably assured of doing better. Let well enough 
alone. This is a golden rule in all departments of 
life. A rolling stone gathers no moss. Denver, 
however, has but two reliable sources of com- 
merce — mining and cattle. I have little confidence 
in the agricultural region tributary to it as a con- 
siderable element of trade. Of course, home is the 
best of all markets, but the surplus over home de- 
mand must be the main resource for accumulation, 
and there is no market for Colorado farm produce 
outside. If the irrigated valleys of the Platte and 
the head waters of the Arkansas produce adequate 
supplies for the country they will prosper on a 
limited scale, but it is questionable whether, witli 
competitive railways, they can pay a profit, after 
the expense of irrigation, in competition with the 
abundant products of Kansas. Careful farmers are 
noio doing well. Irrigated lands produce good small 
grains, but their agricultural area is limited. Their 
corn is not the merchantable article of Kansas. 
No better vegetables grow anywhere, small fruits 
thrive, and in the lower valleys peaches, pears, and 
apricots will probably be profitable. A few young 



79 



apple orcluirds visible from the car windows seem 
thrifty. Denver ought to produce its own woolen 
■fabrics. Colorado is an admirable shee]) country, 
and water power is alnmdant and cheap. 

The test of confidence in Denver's future pros- 
perity is given by the improvements of men of 
wealth, many of whom from, the eastward have in- 
vested largely. Col. Archer, formerly of St. Louis, 
will serve as an illustration. He transferred his 
large wealth to Denver and has increased it. Real- 
izing the inadequacy of the present Holly works 
for a large population he has doubled the capital of 
the company and is alxnit to practically turn the 
Platte into the city to meet all future requisitions. 
To the natural eye his conduits seem to iiow the 
water up hill. The delusive plane of vision and 
the engineer's level do not accord. Either before 
or after dinner the average moral man would be 
sworn that the water in Colorado irrigating ditches, 
or for the use of Denver, runs up hill. I remark en 
passant that the recently constructed dwelling of 
Col. Archer is the most elegant in Colorado, and 
would be an ornament in l)eautiful Clifton. But I 
shall not describe it, for, I find that a ramble even 



80 

in a new city, is uncongenial labor after so much 
Plain sailing. It is not inspiring to lariat your 
sprightly Pegassus and discourse of prosy water- 
works and boozing beer saloons. I formed a liigli 
opinion of the entei'prise and business of Col. 
Archer when I ascertained that he pureliased his 
turbine wheels for his water-works in, Dayton. 

Dayton has several representatives in 1)(M1v(U', of 
wliom I chance to remember two known to many 
of our citizens — Dr. Henry K. Steele, now a resi- 
dent of Denver for eight years, and Robert McCor- 
mick, both highly respected and prosperous gentle- 
men. The former is re])orte(l to have the largest 
medical ])ractice in Colorado, and the latter is 
making a, fortune with his brewery. Tliey were 
zealous in promoting the pleasure of the (nlitors. 

The press of Denver impressed the Ohio editors 
favorably, though, as business men, it was thought 
that daily papers were too numerous for pul)li(' 
benefit, under the well-known principle that two 
vigorous papers are better for the connnunity than 
a score of weaklings. The Tribune^ (R(^])ublican) 
and News (Democratic) are tlie oldi^st papcn-s, and 
are stroniilv estal)lished. Tliev have a liberal read- 



81 

ing cominiinitv, and are crowded with business. 
Their local columns are exceptionally well con- 
ducted. 

Our party were generally most favorably im- 
pressed with Colorado's capital. There were objcH'- 
tions to the stiHing dust, but it is to be remembered 
that the streets are yi^t unpa\^ed, and that the 
Holly lavatory is not cjipacious enough t(j supply 
sprinklers for a city of such rapid growth. The 
sidewalks, in the l)usiness portion of the city, are 
generally planked, but solid stone walks attract 
attention at various points. As yet it lias no 
State buildings. Altogether, I like Denver. It 
has a generally hc^althy moral aspect, as you would 
naturally expect from a Republican city. 

It is properly styled the City of the Plains, but 
it is as clearly entitled to the pretty designation of 
City of Rivulets as Cleveland is to be picturesquely 
described the Forest City. I admit the rather gro- 
tesque comparison of street gutters with babbling 
brooks, but visitors are fiiin to confess that the 
pure mountain waters purling against the clean 
curbing of neat avenues are fairly comparable with 
the lim})id streams of our western wilds. They 



82 

are as refreshing here as they are novel in their 
strange contrast with the arid surface and dry 
' atmosphere of Colorado. Vigorous trees on the 
sidewalks are exotic in their artificial isolation, 
and the luxuriant flowers and shrubbery which 
adorn pleasant houses are phenomenal. One may 
thoroughly appreciate here the practical maxim of 
the oriental philosopher, that he who ])lants a tree, 
l)uilds a house, and fills it with children, is a pul)lic 
benefactor. I quote with more freedom tlian accu- 
racy. The persistence of tasteful citizens in their 
efforts to produce lawns that will compare with the 
beautiful sward of our Miami Valley is ])raise- 
worthy, but the success of their efforts is liardly 
problematic. Irrigation results in irritation. Na- 
ture, jn'odigal as she is in many respects, is uncon- 
genial to sod. The best efforts of persevering peo- 
ple with fertilizers, garden S])rinklers, and spray 
fountains, result in tantalizing tufts of vagrant 
boscage that are little nior(^ pleasing tlian the 
stunted bunch grass of the plains. l>ut th(^ soil is 
most friendly to flowers, wliich grow luxuriously 
and disj)()rt themselves in splendoi'. The verbena 
thrives with a vigor unknown in eastern gardens, 



83 

and the lillics ai'c I'adiant witli uncoinnion ulory. 
The variety of llowcrs that may ho <;r()\vn sueeess- 
fully is i)raetical]y unlimited. Of deeichioiis trees 
there are l)ut few varieties, whieh, save the uni- 
versal Cottonwood — which is to Denver what the 
silver maple is to many Ohio cities and villages — 
liave been imported from the east, or from the 
mountains. I did not see any magnolia grandi- 
flora, which ought to prosper with copious irriga- 
tion. Evergreens are abundant and vigorous. Tt 
is pleasant to linger in this pretty city, and T am 
confident that it is interesting to readers of the 
Journal to be assured that life in the City of 
the Plains c()mi)ares so agreeably with our older 
civilization. But I round up this paragraph witli 
tlie sober reflection that he who goes to Denver 
hoping to find something better tlian the home of 
his l)oyhood. will not realize his anticipations — a 
connnon mistake of people who go west to grow 
U[) with the country. 



Letter ix. 

Going Southward — ^Tho Water-shed — Grand Views — The 
Platte and the Arkansas — Pike's Peak in Front — Monu- 
ment Park — Nature's Architecture and Sculpture — Cas- 
tles on the Hills — Ohelisks on the Mountains. 

"All thin;:^s in Nature are beautiful types to the soul that reads them " 

Going southward from Denver on the Rio Grande 
(narrow-gauge) railway, the prospect is charming. 
The limpid Platte murmurs in devious courses 
through verdant prairies that sweep up gaily 
towards the grand divide which marks the great 
northern and southern water-shed of the conti- 
nent. The bare foothills on your right, suddenly 
swelling into mountains, ever keeping pace with 
vision, now and then at a sudden curve seem 
obtruding u])()n your course, and abrupt ])eaks, 
lik(^ towering castles, bound into sen-rated horizons 
and form the grandest landsca])e views. 

On either hand are luxui'iant raiudu^s. animated 
with l)rowsing cattle and roaniing borses whicb 



85 

gracefully crallop over the i)lain away from the 
screamino- locomotive, and cozy homes are not 
infrequent. Where ''oats, |)eas-l)cans and barley 
grows/' is often pretty and sometimes ])oetic. The 
farmers look cheerful, and their women-folk, gazing 
at the passing train a])pear contented. Tims we 
roll onward and upward a dozen miles an hour or 
so, until we climb two thousand feet of grade to the 
summit — a prolongation of the divide we crossed 
on the Kansas Pacific, at Cedar Point. It is the 
continental spine. Here we are seven thousand 
two hundred feet aV)ove the level of the sea, l)ut to 
tlu> eye the surface is as oven as the rolling area 
in the Ohio Valley. Vou do not realize altitudes 
on a plain surface. From a deep little lake on tln^ 
summit-level, water Hows into the Platte whieli 
winds its way northward a thousand miles, mingles 
with the Missouri and ten thousand trilmtaries, 
and hnally meets water from the same little lake 
that Hows into the Arkansas, a thousand miles 
southward, and hurries off into the Mississippi 
and the Gulf of Mexico. 

And now the midget train with little aid of 
steam rolls towards Colorado Springs, a thousand 



^*^>; 



S6 

feet lower down, some thirty miles beyond. The 
scenery lirows l)older. The tnick trends upon the 
..** foothills. Rough buttes arise suddenly ui)on the 
•■ plains and diversify the prospect. The rugged- 
' , ness of the mountains is more visible. Now long 
'^•colonnades and lofty turrets describe nature's bold 
' architecture ; then curious and fantastic forms, 
her striking sculpture. Glimpses of Pike's Peak 
^hich had strained our eager eyes have given 
jjlace to full view of his majesty enthroned in a 
realm of snow. He grows into collossal magni- 
tude as you gaze upon his portentous proportions 
until he appears to dominate all the space be- 
yond, and yet he is many miles away. 

The eye never wearies studying the Peak, but 
the fascinations of ^hjnument Park into which 
you have been suddenly carried, command your 
attention. The valleys have become deeper and 
greener, the mountains more neighborly and 
loftier; and the rocks more fantastic, assuming 
now the forms of massive oriental vases, and rude 
o])elisks, sometimes of l)irds of prey and great 
beasts, an eagle, a mastiff, or a bear; sometimes 
titanic human shapes, gorgons and goblins damned, 



87 

which fickly fancy chisels for its pleasure. Some- 
times graceful and glitterino- shafts of reddish 
sranite rise from little groves in monumental 
gravity. Isolated eminences crowned with great 
masses of granite turreted and domed, resemble 
splendid castles and impregnable fortresses. The 
brilliant landscape is assisted l)y nature's embel- 
lishment of evergreens, which seem to have been 
distributed in niches with careful art to relieve 
harsh angles and modify rude salients. If the 
name, Monument Park, is derived from the most 
striking piles of granite, it is a misnomer, for as 
I have described them, they are not mausoleic, 
l)ut castelated forms. 

While Monument Park is not comparable with 
the Garden of the Gods, South Park, and other 
wondrous localities in this fal)ulous land, it is 
nevertheless very attrjictive. The railway bisects 
its center and winds sinuously through it, afford- 
ing you many striking and abrupt views. There 
can not be many more beautiful J^rospects. Na- 
ture, ever prodigal in her handiwork, has sta- 
tioned her statuesque productions at intervals to 



88 

produce the finest effect, and the eye roams over 
the superb scene in sybaritic enjoyment. 

All the way to Colorado Springs the views are 
charming, and the neat little city itself, on an 
elevated plain, presents a pretty profile. It de- 
rives its name from its proximity to the mineral 
springs at Manitou, about six miles north-westerly 
in the gap of the mountains which leads you 
through Colorado City, the original capital of the 
Territory, and beyond the Garden of the Gods, to 
Pike's Peak, the grand objective point of the Edi- 
tors' Excursion. The ancient capital is fast going 
to decay. Our company hurriedly disembarked at 
the station, loaded themselves into vehicles and 
sped happily to Manitou, over a fine natural liigh- 
way of compact granite gravel to the chief sum- 
mer resort of Colorado. The ride is attractive. 
Turning into the road from the station, Cheyenne 
Mountain looms on your left, and its famous 
canon some miles distant gapes upon you. Then 
Alps on Alps arise, until you leap to Cameron's 
Cone, and to the shining summit of King's Moun- 
tain, from which you soar to hoary-headed Peak. 
On ycnir right your vision indifferently glances 



89 

upon a rud(^ rockery in a valley, iuv\ you after- 
wards feel a sentiment of disgust that your Jehu 
was a stranger, ignorant of the country, and had 
carried you past the entrance of the (Jarden of 
the Gods. You always like to enjoy the keen- 
edge of novelty, and to have poetry prosed abruptly 
as we had in this instance, was quite shocking 
to our dainty sensibilities. The wretch failed to 
soothe us at smother point, by designating ''Hang- 
num's Kock," a shadowy crevice in a mountain, 
where the first legal execution with a I'ope took 
l^lace in the t(^rritory. T was surprised that the 
pioneers were particular to seek seclusion upon 
an occasion ordinarily regarded as a carnival in 
Colorado. 



Letter x. 

Manitoii — The Great Spirit — Was his home Pike's Peak 
or the Garden of the Gods? — The Village — TTte Pass — 
The Garden of the Gods — A Wonder Scene — Nature's 
Gallery of Autotypes and Sculpture — Glen Eyrie and the 
Devil's Punch Bowl. 

" On tlie mountains of the Prairie, 
On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry, 
Gitche Maniio the Mighty, 
He the Master of Life, descending, 
On the red crags of the quarry 
Stood erect, and called the nations. 
Called the tribes of men together." 

— [Hinwaf/m. 

Our sojourning place is Manitou. In the weird 
word-picturing of the Indian it signifies the (Jreat 
Spirit. It was "Hiawatha's" "Master of Life," or 
the "Gitche Gumee " of Lake Superior. In the 
absence of authority, I shall insist that the Utes, 
whose home was in this thaumaturgic region, now 
so prosaically utilized by pale face iconoclasm, peo- 
pled the Garden of the Gods, or the lofty Peak 



91 

which mounts in frowning majesty so far above the 
narrow canon, with the awful mystery of tlieir 
unseen Manitou, who robed himself in clouds and 
thunder when he averted his face from his dusky 
children, or blessed them from his solemn temples 
in his Garden. 

This picturesque little toural village rests tran- 
quilly in a gap of the mountains leading to Pike's 
Peak, and to fastnesses far beyond, through Ute 
Pass — a wild rift among towering precipices which 
bold engineering has converted into an accessible 
highway of commerce, to the silvery regions of 
Leadville, a hundred miles beyond. Less than a 
generation since, it was the trail of the savage to 
his mountain hunting grounds, and his martial 
pathway to glory or the grave. Stupendous rocks 
and stately palisades crowd the narrow gorge on 
either hand, and a roaring torrent, sometimes 
springing into sudden and brilliant cascades of 
a hundred feet at a leap, rushes tumultuously 
through a chaos of rent and riven granite toward 
the distant Plains. 

Williams' cafion, hardly less wild, rives tlu^ 
towering rocks not far away, and in the breast of 



92 

the mountain it splits, is a dark and spacious 
cavern, once the habitation of wolves and bears, 
and other savage creatures, until more savage man 
drove them from their seclusion. An eccentric 
old hermit, who has trifled away vigorous life 
in profitless adventure, dissipates his hours in 
silent meditation climbing the ambitious steeps, 
or tickles the fancies of idle travelers with the 
tales of an eccentric vagabond, has pre-empted 
the cavern, if not the canon. His quarters are 
on the mountain side — and the contributions of 
vagrant tourists for the privilege of visiting the 
cave. 

The gorge in wdiich Manitou nestles, as in a 
fissure of the Alps, is several miles long, ranging 
from one hundred to two hundred yards in width, 
between ranges of splintered mountains which 
swell in successive terraces until impatient vision 
takes sudden flight from some fugitive cone, and 
settles on the spiring Peak, the only visible rest- 
ing place between terrestrial scenes and the stars. 
Pines and ragged cedars, dark hemlocks and grace- 
ful aspens, j^i'tjtty daisies and the purple cam- 
panula, which find congeniality in dry granicular 



93 

gravol, struggle (loiibtfully up inhospitable aeeliv- 
ities, and a wild sjDarkling stream of li(|uid snow 
tumbles from loft}' summits in sinuous seclusion, 
until tliev sink in the sandy plains of the desert. 
Art, too, aids the scenic charm, for j)retty rustic 
cottages nestle in umbrageous beauty in the val- 
ley, or lend enchantment to the prospect on some 
commanding promontory. Three hotels tastefully 
located on one side, afford wild views of oven-hang- 
ing clitls and dashing cascades, and from their 
pleasant porticoes the eye disports itself in climb- 
ing the ever-receding summits in front. Pike's 
Peak is omnipresent, dominating all the scenic 
splendor from the center all round to the sea of 
utter vacuitv. At sunrise in the clear morninu- 
atmosphere and radiant sky, he seems to invade 
the valley with startling massiveness; at noon he 
is robed with thunderous clouds and vivid with 
lightning; and the sun at evening sinks slowlv 
behind his glittering crown with inconceivable 
glory. 

And now reality struggles with fancy for mas- 
tery. We enter, the Garden oi" the Gods. The lofty 
portal is 



94 

" A precipice 
That seems a fragment of some mighty wall, 
Built by the Hand that fashioned the world." 

The weird creations of Monument Park are here 
magnified into more stately proportions. Enter- 
ing a narrow passage, upon a swelling eminence, 
between columnar masses "of porphj^ritic granite, 
whose shining particles glitter like gems, the oyo 
suddenly gathers in splendid focus a scene of inde- 
scribable novelty and im23ressiveness. Aqueous 
and volcanic agencies appear to have been in vio- 
lent conflict and produced 

"A mighty maze, yet not without a plan." 

No word-painter can picture this gorgeous pageant 
to imagination. Wonder is excited and admiration 
commanded by confusion of vari-tinted rocks and 
herbage ; the striking contrast of rugged hills and 
abrupt hollows; the graceful blending of sweep- 
ing plain and pretty valleys, radiant with moun- 
tain springs; picturesque varieties of monumental 
shafts and statuesque formations of variegated 
stone, unite with witching harmony in a noble 
facade for the grand Temple of the Garden — whose 



95 

vail seems to have been rent in twain by thunder- 
bolts of Jove — and form a spectacle of nature's 
unique luindiwork of incomparable attractiveness. 
The elements in apparent carelessness have rolled 
great reddish boulders into fantastic rockeries, 
through which fragile clematis have fretted their 
fugitive foliage to blossom in the sunshine ; wild 
asters nestle in their curious crevices, and tan- 
gled cedars twist their gnarled roots among the 
rolled stones in whimsical crookedness. Yonder a 
massive rock has been poised upon a slender pivot 
and seems to tremble in the soft summer wind. 
Upon yon granite surface there is a delicate tracery 
of a stag's head, and there, are autotj^pes in stone 
of curious birds and crawling serpents. Upon a 
pinnacle of the grand cathedral of Jupiter is poised 
an eagle with pinions spread as if in act to swoop 
upon his prey far down below. Imagination need 
not be spurred for figures to tickle eager fancy. 
Reality itself almost beggars invention. Bastions 
and battlements, statues and towers, and stately cas- 
tles, pinnacles and domes, and solemn monuments 
startle you on every hand, and defy you to solve the 
strange problem whicli hopelessly confuses you. 



96 

Tourists have exhausted fancy in tlie invention 
of nomenclature for nature's curious art, antl usu- 
ally with pro])riety. Balanced Rook speaks for 
itself, for it ever seems to totter for a, fall. An 
elk head autotyped upon a stone liard hy needs 
no signature, and the [Siamese Twins, with um- 
hilical ligament, stand bolt upriglit in grotc^sijue 
dignity. On the top of a rock a badger, wrought 
by the (Uinning alchemy of wind and storms; not 
far off a buffalo, and then a bear. Yonder a seal, 
striking in its granitic likeness, and in the dis- 
tance a sphynx as clearl}' defined as if it had ])een 
carved in Egyptian sculpture. INIother Grundy 
grins in grim humor in the declining sun, and a 
beer barrel is as plain as a lager fancy could chisel 
it. The Pictured Rocks of " (litchee Gumee " are 
mere creations of excited fancy, compared with 
this wonderful gallery of nature's painting and 
sculpture. Cathedral Rock — sometinuis designated 
the Temple of Jupiter — and its opposite, Echo 
Rock, the twain forming a massive portal to new 
and charming scenes beyond, start U}) a,V)ruptly 
from a level plain, and luount perpendicularly 
three hundred and forty feet in unimaginable 



97 

stateliness. Their ochre}^ faces shine like polished 
metal, and decorated with turrets and pinnacles, 
minarets and spires, their templar forms full well 
agree with their descriptive names. Not far away 
noble palaces and castles formidable rise upon 
swelling eminences in grey granite, presenting 
most picturesque contrasts: 

" Huge pillars, that in middle heaven upheave 
Their weather-beaten capitals, here dark 
With moss, the growth of centuries, and these 
Of chalky whiteness, where the thunderbolt 
Has splintered them." 

In rifts of these majestic temples, where time 
has deposited soil, graceful ferns and pretty moun- 
tain flowers, which you descry with your field- 
glass, grow luxuriantly, and the sides stippled 
with little orifices furnish nests for myriads of 
swallows, w^hich make the garden vocal with their 
twittering. Hard-bye iconoclastic man, disdaining 
the sanctity of the savage Manitou, and insensible 
to the charms of poesy, discovering a profitable 
vein of gypsum, has driven his unhallowed pick- 
axe far into one of the decorative tumuli and dis- 
turbed the soft serenit}^ of a place which should be 
forever held sacred to sentiment. In plain Eng- 



98 

lish, an avaricious barbarian is working a vein of 
gypsum under the shadow of the Cathedral Rock. 
Another wretch has furtlier desecrated the In- 
dian Holv of Holies with a laoer-beer saloon ; 
and a western speculator is negotiating for the 
site to convert it into a summer resort; so that 
not man}'' months hence the towering spires of 
the noble Cathedral will echo with the rattle of 
tumbling ten-pins and cold kissing of unsenti- 
mental billiard-balls. 

Beyond the Garden of the Gods is Glen Eyrie, 
the Queen's Caiion, and tlie Devil's Punch Bowl, 
which a tasteful gentleman, Gen. Palmer of tlie 
Denver ct Rio Grande Railwa}'', has appropriated 
to himself for a summer residence. I commend 
his taste but regret that the Government did 
not reserve this beautiful retreat for pul)lic de- 
light. Besides its general attractions, Glen Eyrie 
is decorated with several singular natural statues. 
Among them the most conspicuous in that pretty- 
resort is the "Major Domo " — or Lord of the 
Manor — a titanic figure, in bold relief lifting liis 
majestic form in stately dignity above the groves 
in the shaded valley. The glen is full of pretty sur- 



09 

prises, and has been pleasantly platted with sinu- 
ous drives throuirh luxuriant <2;r()ves and thickets 
of undergrowth. The spacious summer dwelling 
at the foot of an impending cliff, on the north 
of the canon, is ^picturesque in its wild isolation. 
The Queen's cafion is a bold castellated gorge in 
the mountains through which a wild bubbling 
stream tumbles hastily toward the Plains. A mile 
or two up, at a ])ight in the mountain where 
opi)osing cliffs s(|ue(^ze the gap, the noisy torrent 
leaps into a pretty cascade and falls in sparkling 
spray into a l)asin of stone that has been fanci- 
fully designated ''The Devil's Punch Bowl." It 
was ol)served that the ladies delighted in quaffing 
from it. The mirror-like water reflected their 
pleasant faces in perfect a({uatypes, which doubt- 
less enhanced its fascinations. 

Away from these scenes so charming and back 
to Manitou, thence to Ute Pass and the Iron Spring, 
was occu})ation enough for eight busy hours, and 
left us prepared for sweet sleep in th(^ cool moun- 
tain air ])reparat()ry for a trip on the morrow to 
Pike's Peak. I have struggled hard to get there 
and will go next time if it founders my Pcgassus. 



Letter xi 



Discovery of Pike's Peak — Its Altitude and Prodigious Pro- 
portions — The Ascent — Perils of the Tourist — How you 
Forget Danger and Enjoy Noble Scenery — Lake Morain — 
The Timber and Snow Line — Beautiful Flowers — The 
Abomination of Desolation ! 

" Ye who love the haunts of Nature, 
Love the shadow of the forest, 
Love the wind among the branches, 
And the rushing of clear waters 
Through the palisades of pine trees, 
Anl the thunder in the mountains, 
Whose innumerable echoes, 
Flap like eagles in their eyries: — 
Listen to these wild stories." 

Pike'8 Peak is a little south of the thirty-ninth 
parallel, al^out half a degree south of the Miami 
Valley. But the isothermal line that hisects Day- 
ton runs far north of it. Hence the climate of 
that impressive region is much milder and more 
equable. All the physical characteristics utterly 
differ from Nature in our variable valleys, and 



101 

comparisons result in incongruities. You can not 
photogra])h {ibstractions. The only superiorities 
of tliis romantic reo-ion over the country with 
which my readers are familiar in daily life are 
scenic and sanatorial — a pure, eiiuable atmosphere 
with invigorating winds; delicious waters which 
are refreshing and tonical ; a total absen<^e of ma- 
larial conditions; and sky-daring architecture upon 
a plane of corresponding amplitude. 

Lieutenant (afterward General) Zebulon M. Pike, 
r. S. A., was the' first Anglo-Saxon known to have 
identified Pike's Peak. Hence its name. He Avas 
charged l)v the (Government with an exploration of 
that country after the Louisiana cession by France, 
and his expedition moved up the Arkansas Valley 
\y^ ],S()6 — only seventy-three years ago. But the 
mountain was well known to the ^lexicans, to 
whom it was the northern boundary of travel. It 
is claimed that De Soto saw it three hundred 
years ago, but that is straining after novelty in 
fine writing. On the loth of November, Lieut. Pike 
described a lofty pcjdv in the distance resembling 
a small l)lue cloud, but soon identified a moun- 
tain. The delusive distance misled him, and in- 



102 

stead of encamping at its base at sunset, as he 
proposed, he did not reach the base of the moun- 
tain until the evening of the tenth day. His first 
view of it was one hundred and thirty miles away. 
On the 2d of December, assuming the level of 
the plain to 1)e eight thousand feet, he took the 
altitude of the peak and reported its elevation 
eighteen thousand five hundred and eighty-one 
feet above the sea level, and falling short of Chim- 
borazo only one thousand seven hundred and one 
feet. But improved instruments have since proved 
his mensuration inaccurate. Its true elevation is 
fourteen thousand one hundred and forty-seven 
feet above the sea level, and about eight thousand 
feet above the plateau from whence its shining 
crown commands the wonder of tourists. Ye who 
have been amazed merely with the majesty of a 
lofty pile rising one thousand four hundred feet 
perpendicularly from the sea, may well stand awe 
stricken in this - stately presence, lifting itself 
seven fold higher above the Plains. Consider for 
an instant, that a balloon which soars eight thous- 
and feet above the valley at Dayton, is beyond 
the utmost stretch of human vision, and you may 



103 

form a feeblo conroption of the tr('mondons alti- 
tude of Pike's Peak. Then iiiia<iine that his broad 
base, swelliiiLj; in portentous outlines, would (tover 
more than all the site of your city from center to 
circumference. A'll the hills in the valley poised 
upon each other would hardly form this mighty 
mass. And yet Pike's Peak is only one among 
the multitude of prodigies in this amazing region. 
Long's Peak, a hundred miles away, is higher; 
Grey's Peak, between them, is loftier still, and 
all ai'ound them the towering barriers of nature 
are climbing tumultuously to the skies. And yet 
our i)uny people scale these collossal heaps, clad 
in eternal snow, for daily diversion, or to satisfy 
the accursed thii-st for gold. 1 for])ear the chissic 
phrase. 

It re(|uires moral as well as physical effort to 
make tlie ascent. Not one-tenth of the tourists 
who visit Manitou venture upon the formidable 
enter])rise. Home are deterred by the sheer labor 
and tax u})on endurance; others b}' apprehension 
of sickness — absolute sea-sickness — which affects 
and adlicts tlie majority, be the}^ ever so robust, 
and otliers by the dangers ascribed to them bv 
s 



104 

timid adventurers. Several days after returning 
you are indifferent to the most fascinating travel, 
and altogether partial to a cunningly cushioned 
seat. Indeed you prefer not to sit at all. Neither 
invalids, fragile women, or bulky men, should 
attempt the entire ascent to the Peak. Two young 
ladies only, of our party, Miss Amos, daughter of 
the editor of the Sidney Journal, and Miss Jennie 
Mitchell, of London, Ohio, started and pluckily 
persevered in the toilsome effort. Three other 
ladies at the Springs took advantage of the oppor- 
tunity, and also made the ascent. I mention as a 
historical fact that the first ladies who scaled the 
mountain to the Peak were Yankees, under the 
escort of my former friend, the late A. I). Richard- 
son, of the New York Tribune, who, in 1S60, occu- 
pied five days in the adventure, but on a different 
trail. One of these was from Boston, the other 
from Derry, New Hampshire. Their names are 
not remembered at the Signal station. The dis- 
tance from the Manitou Springs to the summit is 
nearly thirteen miles, and it requires about six 
hours of steady riding on trained Colorado ponies 
to make the ascent, and five to descend. Several 



105 

economical editors boldly attempted to make the 
laborious round on foot, but only one accomplished 
it. James Timmons, editor of the Perrysburgh 
(Ohio) Journal, who tramped four years through 
Dixie in the gallant old Eleventh Ohio Infantry 
with musket on his shoulder and knapsack on his 
back, stripped himself to light marching order, pro- 
vided himself with a stout alpenstock, and at five 
o'clock in the morning briskly stepped out. i\t two 
o'clock when T turned my face downward I met the 
sturdy veteran wading wearily upward through ten 
feet of treacherous snow near the summit, and some- 
where al)out nine o'clock in the evening, I greeted 
the gallant fellow, exhausted and footsore, home 
again, mounting to the portico of the Cliff House. 
He is said to have been the onlv tourist who ever 
accomplished this laborious feat in a single day. 
Mr. Timmons had arranged with others for a little 
sport in the evening, but after his return consid- 
erately postponed it. There was no levity left in 
the c()m})nny. Al)out half the men in our party 
scaled the mountain. 

Livery men provide trained horses and saddles 
at from So to |5 each, according t() the number of 



106 

the party. No guide is required. You can only 
get ofif* the trail by pitching over a precipice, and 
then an affecting obituary closes the scene. But no 
accident of this kind has ever happened. Woe to 
the unlucky wight who is badly mounted. Fa- 
tigue and exasperation are his portion. Mount- 
ing at seven in the bright morning, you gallop 
in hot haste up the plateau, perhaps a mile to 
the iron spring, where hurriedly (juaffing a cha- 
ly]>eate libation to the god on high Olympus, you 
move onward to the tent of the mountain Cerbe- 
rus who demands tribute for use of the slender 
trail. Stepping lightly across a fragile rustic 
bridge which spans a babbling brook, your party 
now strings out in single file along the trail and 
tugs laboriously upward toward the far-distant 
summit. 

I was fortunately mounted, but being a little 
tardy was not far from the rear of the column, but 
taking advantage of a friendly rivulet that opened 
a gap in the mountain I used a vigorous pair of 
heels to advantage, pressed forward over logs and 
boulders to the front, and from that time onward 
commanded the prospect. The little trail, only 



107 

wide enoiigli for a single rider, winds sinuouslv 
across and up, eternally up, the mountains, from 
side to side alternately, as the ru^-ged topography 
re(|uires. On one side your vision and your fancy 
climb apparently interminable and im]^ossil^le 
precipices through tangled liemlocks and guiirlcd 
roots; on the other you glance with an invohm- 
tary shudder at impenetrable depths jind fear 
to contemplate the probabilities of a blundering 
horse. But kind nature accommodates all situa- 
tions to the adventurous. There is no danger, 
after it is passed. You glance back at an uglv 
precipice disdainfull}^ and pass onward to perils 
unforeseen. Pleasant surprises and wild scenery 
engross attention, and captivate your f\incy. Your 
faithful animal, trained to mountain liazards and 
laborious distances, selects his intervals and stops 
to regulate his l^reathing. Then your eyes, through 
a rift in the rocks, discover the "Old Man'' ol" tlie 
mountain, wliich you contemplated from the goi-ge 
far down below, standing sentry to "^ranitou," on 
a giddy pinnacle three thousand feet above you in 
the seldom clouded sun. All around him in liail- 
ing distance the cliffs are guarded throuuh the 



108 

centuries with unfailing sentinels, and far down 
below in the mysterious darkness of a roaring tor- 
rent are shadowy forms of men and beasts chiseled 
by storms of ages, and almost seeming animate. 
Yonder is a bear on a rock, and there the glisten- 
ing oval of a turtle's back, wet with the spray of 
a noisy cascade tumbling over a rabble of boulders 
that have rolled from distant acclivities. Now 
you wonder at the curious mechanism of Nature 
which presents the face of a mountain paved in 
geometric order, starting from a palisaded crown 
under a jutting cliff, and lodging with rugged 
evenness against the torrent at its base. All about 
you the pungent })ines and somber hemlocks cast 
their dark shadows on the rocks, and slender 
aspens whose sensitive leaves quiver in the soft 
breezes captivate your roving fancy. 

Your trusty horse moves on again, still tugging 
and pulling upward, while the treacherous granite 
gravel slips beneath his well-shod feet, and tum- 
bles into unseen cavities. Often the eye is caught 
by the rich and graceful campanula, luxuriant in 
a desert of gravel, surprising you always that any- 
thing vegetate could thrive and bloom there so 



109 

beautifully ; aud tlu> pretty mountain aster smiles 
whenever there is a gleam of sunsliine. And where 
a little rivulet trickles from a spring, there; are 
slender fern.s, chiefly maiden's hair, but no varie- 
ties that tempt a maiden fair used to the rich par- 
terres of our own sweet valleys. When your horse 
halts he browses on the thin tufts of grass that 
feebly struggle along the sterile trail, and gives you 
time to contemplate these barren fastnesses of na- 
ture. The rocks which have broken into fragments 
from lofty falls, are worn into curious forms and are 
often roofed with granite sheds, baked by the ele- 
ments into the hardness of metal, but you are sur- 
prised to find so few lichens, which so prettily deco- 
rate the stones and fallen timber of our own moist 
clime. 

All this time you are toiling and climl)ing and 
sharply penetrating the secrets of this scMpiestered 
realm, and scarcely suspect that a sli]) or a tum- 
ble may send you among the everlasting echoes. 
Sharp salients, where your ever-watchful steed 
picks his way most carefully, often imperiously 
comnumd attention and bid you beware of dan- 
gers from which you involuntarily shrink. At 



110 

one time during our vagrant progress, the long 
column drawn out against the profile of the moun- 
tain, with not an ell to spare between the ribbon 
trail and the precipice, the scene was. most pictur- 
esque. I had just crossed a roaring chasm on a 
rustic bridge, climbed a sharp zig-zag and halted — 
because my horse had insisted — far above my com- 
panions. The wild view to them was so striking 
that they halted involuntarily, and they (embel- 
lished the picture for me. It was several thousand 
feet to the summit of the cliffs on either hand. 
Above was a great gap in the mountain, and a 
brilliant cascade in heavy volume spouted tumult- 
uously over a mass of granite that had tumbled 
into the gorge from the heights. Here tht; cun- 
ning mountaineers — who realize their profits from 
the trail — had thrown a rude log bridge across 
the chasm, and below it was a cataract that roared 
and rumbhid most musically among the mountain 
wrecks that formed the rugged ('hann(d. Alto- 
gether the scene was so enchanting to all of us 
tliat w(; made the 

"- ■■'■ ''■'■ '■'■'■ Innumor.alile oclioes 
Fla]i liki' caglps in th'^ir oyrios." 



in 

A littlo farther on you strike a. mountain of 
gravel that has slipped dowu in immeasurable 
masses from eternally disintegrating rock on the 
summit, and your good horse laboriously and 
painfully picking his way along the treacherous 
acclivity fairly groans in his agony of toil and 
apprehension. You l)ring up suddenly against an 
impudent cliff tliat threatens to thrust you into 
the chasm below, but you twist around it and at 
length wind into a verdant valley, a garden of 
the fairies, which seems like paradise in contrast 
with the rigor of the laborious miles behind you. 
Perhaps the slow progress my Pegassus has made 
will enable you to comprehend how tardily the 
tourist toils up the mountain, as well as how hap- 
pily fancy converts the severest efforts into lively 
pleasure. Nevertheless after several hours study 
of Nature's architectui'e in its boldest forms, and 
her modest charms in her most mysterious seclu- 
sions, you are not insensible to the end. T fre- 
quently discovered myself in(iuiri ng how much 
longer is this thing going to last? There seemed 
a ])ossibility that it would finally l)ecome monoto- 
nous. There mav be even too much of rocks and 



112 

pinnacles, sandstone gods and startling images, 
sparkling cascades and magnificent distances — 
especially if you are unaccustomed to a hard saddle. 
Strange to say, we rode hours and saw nor 
heard no animate thing but ourselves and horses, 
and swarms of horseflies. There were no birds or 
animals to be seen, not even a butterfly, until 
we begun to climb the last acclivities, when some 
one descried a robin, several saw chipmonks, and 
all of us became familiar with 1:)adgers. And yet 
upon the pretty plateau upon which we debouched 
a short time ago, there were ripe strawberries and 
mountain raspberries, favorite food of dainty birds. 
The absence of birds seemed more strange because 
the verdure on the edges of the pretty mountain 
brook was so rich, and the l)lue-bells exquisite. 
Our steady and well-trained steeds as thoroughly- 
enjoyed this luxuriant oasis as we did, but with 
different instincts, and moved on refreshed when 
we scaled the next back bone, to Lake Moi-ain — 
said to be one of the highest bodies of water of its 
dimensions in the world. It is ten thousand Ave 
hundred feet above the level of the sea, and em- 
braces a superflcial area of some thirty acres. On 



113 

an interior suniniit-levol, tho melting snows have 
filled a deep basin with transliu^ent water, and 
fancy has transformed it into a lake. Jt is in 
strange and grateful contrast with the surround- 
ing desolation, for the bare trunks that have been 
left standing on the steep acclivities resemble 
forests of telegraph poles, and the young pineries 
and hemlock thickets that are growing up give to 
the prospect the aspect of an unfinished clearing. 
But nature comes to the rescue with her lofty 
mountain scenery, for vi>^-(i-i-l^ to old Pike, the bold 
pyramid of King's ]\[ountain bare to the apex, 
lifts himself in sterile rivalry, and forms a noble 
view. All around upon the mountain sides, the 
fcxUen pines seamed and scarred with fire, and 
shining like silver columns, suggest to imagina- 
tion that they have been swept into an orderly 
confusion by a freshet that has overflowed the 
mountain ridge and hurried them towards the 
gorge below. 

At the Lake House, a little log hostelry three- 
fourths of the way to the summit, you pay a (quar- 
ter for a cup of coffee, in which you find many 
grounds for complaint; pay another toll (^$l.oU in 



114 

all) and proceed to climb, climl), climb, it seems 
almost eternally. The trees maintains a\an-age 
dimensions until you rea^h thj timber an I snow 
line — which practically corresponds, — when the 
timber abruptly ceases at a point eleven thoa-;and 
seven hundred feet above the level of tlie sea. It 
is a novel sensation to clutch a handful o" snow 
when you have just left the mercury at 91)° four 
hours before, and is pleasing as it is odd to pluck 
a nosegay of pretty blossoms — not snow drops, 
either — with one hand, and gather snow with the 
other. And yet those of us who fancied it, did so 
at mid-day on the 28th of June. 

At last we are flattered that we are near tlie 
Peak. Vain delusion. We turn a rugged point, 
amble upon a damp green sward, with snow below 
as well as above us, and gaze on pastures green, 
strangely in contrast with the sterility just behind 
us. And now the brow of the mountain, adorned 
with exquisite mosses in bloom, l)ecomes most 
charming. Few of us fail to dismount and gather 
the brilliant little Indian pink that has to be 
taken l)y the roots, and a sweet little moss with a 
tiny blossom of most delicate cerulean tint, that 



115 

must b(> a favorite of Flora herself. The l)roa(l 
front of the inoinitain is adorned witli them as tar 
as eyes can reach. We ])roeeeded perhaps two miles 
through this most dainty earpetinp; until we waded 
in snow aoaiu far upon the side of fh<' I'<'ak, and 
still ^yc found iiowers. 1 oathered the eltin nx.ss 
plants on the Peak itself at the ed-c of a drift of 
snow ten feet dec^p. and they now flourish in our 
roekery at home. But alas, the starry blossom has 
vanishe(l. 

It was pleasant to contemplate these charmin.ii' 
seenes, hut they wer(^ delusive. They led to snares 
and sore trouble. Soon the labored efforts of our 
faithful horses admonished us that the most try- 
ing portion of our journey was before us. it was 
diseouraging, because while it seemed l)ut a short 
distance to the summit, the rugged i)athway com- 
pelled us to wind in and out among boulders al- 
most interminal)ly. Every step was painful and 
perilous. Often there was no trail at all, but our 
intelligent horses knew the way and followed what 
to us seemed the indistinct path with unerring 
sagacity. Troulde increased as one by one oui; 
companions begun to succund:^ to the sickening 



116 

oppression of the rarefied atmosphere. Several 
turned back seasick and utterly discouraged. We 
took no note of time. We were now too solemnly 
in earnest to escalade the tantalizing and toil- 
some barrier which still towered, apparently so 
near and yet so far. I never knew what that 
meant l)efore, and yet we desperately scrambled 
with grim persistence, in the perplexing maze of 
stones. There was no levity in the most humor- 
ous. A joke wouhl have been as seemly in tlie 
presence of the king of terrors. We Avere about as 
near out of lu'cath as if we had been in extremis. 
Gasping, best descril)es the effort. You may readily 
believe that when at hist we halted at a dreary 
little plateau of forloi'u boulders we dismounted, 
silently hitclied our lioises, thanked God, and took 
breath for a final tug through a heavy snow bank. 
Slowly, seriously, and almost painfully, we di-aggcd 
one I'cluctant foot after the otlu^r through a dreary 
stec}) of snow, and at last stood in the presence of 
what for a s])ace seemed tlu^ v(>ry aljomination oJ' 
desolation. T then felt tliat scaling Pike's Peak 
■ was the most infernal job I (^vcr undertook for the 
gratification of a vain-glorious whim. I went up 
in a snow storm and came drown in thunder. 



Letter xii 



On the Peiik— Seasickness— I )i//.y Hit;hts — Mn^miiicent 
Pajjennt — The Eye Commands the Continent — Kansas, 
Nebrask 1, Utah, New ^Mexico, and the " I'>ay of the Holy 
Spirit" — Shades of Fremont— We eatch a Bumble Bee — 
A last T.ib;ition to Olympian Jove. 

" Thosf- wlio would see the lovely iind the wilii 
Minj^led in harmony on Nature's face, 
A«eena our Rocky Mountains. Let thy foot 
Fail not with we:irines-i, for on their tops 
The beauty and the majesty of earth 
Spread wide beneath shall make thee to for;!;et 
The steep and toilsome way." 

Standin.ij on t\w desolate, ocholess Peak, the swift 
<dan('inf»- vision is abject servant of all it surveys. 
A jrold hunter in my eandess youth, tram pi n^- in 
reckless rapture over the stately pea,ks of .ojold- 
rihbed California, dallying: in .ijay and hopeful fancy 
with an iina.u'inary sweetheart, or dreaminir of that 
evanescent vision of nights on suinniits tliat co- 
quetted with Orion, seekin.c^ wild adventure and 
the most sava^fe haunts of nature for tlieir own de- 



118 

lights, and cMmpini!; under the moon, eourting com- 
panionship with wihlest solitudes, I liad not even 
imagined a wilderness of loneliness comparahle 
witli the al)S()lute desolation of this awful summit. 
I stood for tlie moment oppressed with the majesty 
that enveloped me. And even when self-possession 
slowly returned with the comparative restoration 
of convulsed physical nature, the stu])endous real- 
ism of the wondrous scene rivaled the tumult of 
super-stimulated fancy. For a little period hefore 
your wandering faculties are remoralized, while 
staring with dazed eye^^ upon the glaring sky, and 
confused maze of mountains all around, and plains 
which si)read out helow in misty vagueness, chaos 
seems to have come again. Even the dreariness of 
the desolate peak itself scarcely dissipates the dis- 
mal si)ell, for you stand in a, hopeless confusion of 
dull stones piled upon each other in odious ugliness, 
without one softening infhicnce, as if nature, irri- 
tat'.nl with her labor, had flung her confusion here 
in utter despei-ation. 

But soon again your sensitive nerves, wliicli vi- 
l)rate fiercely as with a fever, youi' ])ali)itating 
lieart which thumps like a Itounding l)(>ulder down 



119 

the unsoen derlivity into the cnitcr's abyss, your 
throbbing pulse thut leiqis impetuously, suddenly 
restore you to consciousness and admonish you of 
the little time you have to Avaste in delirious dreams. 
A sudden dizziness confuses 3^our brain, whose 
nerves ache with painful tension, and miserable 
nausea meanly reminds you that you are mortal. 
Nevertheless, the eye escaping constantly from its 
local fetters, soars away to the bright canopy above 
and then to 

" - =:= • * The hills 
Kock-rihbcd and ancient as the sun; tlie vale 
Stretching in quiet pensiveness between ; 
The venerable woods, rivers that move 
In majesty, and tlie complaining brooks 
That make the meadows green." 

You contemplate the dazzling panorama with 
admiration and amazement. No human pen or 
tongue can word or voice the marvellous sjicctacle. 
Mountains rise u])on jnountains like heaving l)il- 
lows and o'ertop each other far as eye can scan, and 
broad plains spread out below like a shoreless sea. 
Yonder in the l)lue distance Long's lofty i:)eak in 
snowy grandeur leaps, and in the illusive liaze. 
Grey's sky-i3iercing summit chid in eternal white 
glistens in the neighboring sun. Beneath your feet 
9 



120 

a wild riot of rough rooks that seem tumbling down- 
ward noiselessly forever into an invisible abyss, 
and a mystery of somber forests through which the 
untamed winds revel in ril)ald harmony. And now 
far away in the blending shadows and dazzling 
sunshine in a picturesque seclusion enclosed with 
cliffs and fringed with evergreens, a cluster of shin- 
ing lakes — the "Seven Lakes" — that glisten like 
mirrors ai'd reflect images which make them beau- 
tiful. Red granite and gray sandstone, bare cones 
and glittering pyramids and verdant valleys every- 
where, fill up the unmeasured amphitheater of 
Nature. 

Long sinuous lines of green describe the course 
of wandering streams far off, with little villages 
and a city on the sea-like plains, a new metropolis, 
lie prettily away below, and swelling billows seem 
to roll quietly from a misty l)asin to the line of the 
sky, which the restricted vision indistinctly de- 
fines. And then down precipitately, far down be- 
low into unseen depths, the crater of the mountain: 



"Steep is the eastern side, shagg)' and wild, 
'■'■'■ - with pinnacles of flint, 
And many a hanging crag." 



1-21 

Into it you heavo a l.ouMcr that bounds noiselessly 
into space, and sinks without an echo into the chasm. 
Wlicre we stand, good reader, our ey(;s command 
the mysteries of the continent. Far southward a 
soft line of verdure describes tlie valley of the Ar- 
kansas; northward th(^ Platte chases through the 
plains a thousand miles, flows into the turbid Mis- 
souri, rushes in swift volume down through the 
Mississippi, and kisses waters at the mouth of the 
Arkansas Avhicli it left long ago under the shadow 
of this mighty Peak. Southerly again the vision 
sweeps the course of the Rio Grande, which winds 
in crooked current into the waters of the "Bay of 
the Holy Spirit"— Gulf of Mexico,— and then at 
last the Colorado, which drains the south-western 
water-shed into the Pacific ocean. Kansas is within 
your ken, Nebraska too, Ttah and New Mexico. A 
thousand miles of mountains ))reak the vast surface 
west of you, and fifteen hundred north and soutli. 
And eastward ranging north and south, the spread- 
ing Plains. There is no more splendid masterpiece 

in Nature. 

The surface of the Peak is indesc^ribably rude. It 
embraces a rugged though regular area of perhjips 



122 

fifty acres of serrated oval form on its face, sinking 
southward into a narrow rocky ridge, and vaults 
into space. The rocks are comparatively regularly 
formed boulders of porphyritic granite of reddish 
tint, with soil enough in the crevices between them 
to noui'ish exquisite little mountain mosses, which 
are the only relief to the utter sterility of the sum- 
mit. A drift of perpetual snow, like a silver lielmet, 
which tlie eye catches in tlie glitter of the sun- 
sliine miles upon miles away upon the distant 
Plains, lies in a glittering mass on the very apex of 
the mountain. 

While skipping about from boulder to boulder, 
devouring the amazing panorama with inappease- 
able appetite, stopping now and then to gather 
pretty mosses that blossomed under the very eyes 
of the snow heap, a chance companion, one Isaac 
Rothimer, of Chicago, i)icked off the snow itself, a 
living humble-bee.. T took it in my hands and ex- 
amined it carefully, ruminating upon the Demo- 
cratic ridicule which enlivened the politicians dur- 
ing the presidential campaign of the "Pathfinder;" 
for many of you who remember that stirring sum- 
mer will perhaps not forget with what eagerness 



V2?> 

the Democratic organs and orators ridiculed Fre- 
mont's Narrative recording tlie fact tliat he liad 
found a living bumble-bee upon a snow-capped 
peak of the Rocky Mountains. Our bumble-bee was 
in a semi-torpid state, nevertheless it crawled, and 
being apprehensive that its business end might be 
warmed into animation by too much familiarity, 1 
tenderly deposited it upon the soft side of a boul- 
der, and left it to gather what honey it might from 
the shining granite. It was a pleasing incident in 
contrast with our gloomy surroundings, for hard-ljy 
is a solitary little cross, marking tlie grave (?) of 
an infant, the child of Sergeant O'Keefe, whicli was 
destroyed by mountain rats in the Signal Station, 
while its mother was occupied with her domestic 
duties. Mem. — I forbear to spoil a good story for 
want of facts. Readers are at liberty to Ix'lieve 
that after those voracious rats finished tlie l)aby, 
they devoured fcither and mother without lubri- 
cation. 

The United States Signal Station, a stone tene- 
ment of three little apartments, is at once the 
capitol and metropolis of the Peak. Selkirk in 
solitude enjoyed an existence of rare sociability 



124 

compared with the utter loneliness of this desolate 
habitation. Two signal officers, who relieve each 
other at intervals of thirty days, defy the elements 
in this dreary eyrie through the dismal cycle of the 
months, and profess themselves contented. They 
seek this hard service to give themselves claims for 
promotion. Telegraphic connection with the (sub)- 
terrestrial world keeps them in instantaneous com- 
munication with their fellows, and daily electrical 
chat over the wires with operators at Colorado 
Springs, relieves their tedious loneliness. The}^ 
live chiefly upon canned food, and substitute 
tobacco smoke for the pure ether of the Peak. This 
reminds me that although an inveterate smoker 
and enjoying perfect general health, cigars were 
utterly distasteful to me on the summit, and for an 
hour or two after I had fled precipitately to the cav- 
erns below. My fumigating companions reported a 
similar experience, and those who partook of lunch- 
eon in the station represented that good bread and 
butter tasted like dry chips. One editor, who took 
a square drink of whisky to relieve nausea, paid an 
almost instant penalty. From his experience and 
that of others, I infer that aleoholic spirits are un- 



125 

congenial to the luunan stoma.-h in sul.rnnated 

atmospheres. 

8trono- winds sweep over the Peak perpetually. 
They are hracing, but not penetrating in summer, 
excepting upon occasion. I was clad in ordinary 
winter garments without an overcoat, and iVlt no 
cold excepting a benumbing sensation in my un- 
gloved bridle hand while approaching the sumniit. 
The atmosphere resembles the chilliness of a March 
wind blowing over a surface of snow in the Miami 
Valley. Immediately after mounting the Peak, the 
majority of persons became conscious of dizziness, 
light-headedness, and presently confusing head- 
ache, with accompanying nausea strangely resem- 
bling seasickness. To some it becomes utterly un- 
endurable, and they tly from the summit as rapidly 
as they dare. But few care to linger long. With- 
out exception, those who made the ascent this day 
returned with strangely pallid faces, and scna^-al of 
them halted by the wayside and retchedly paid 
tribute to the Olympian Peak. The vioh^rt action 
of the l)lood in this great altitude was indicated by 
the pulsation of strong men running as high as one 
hundred and thirty beats to the minute, and some 



120 

even higher. One of the young ladies naively con- 
fessed that her pulse mounted as high as one hun- 
dred and forty, hut it was observed that an ardent 
widower kept time for her. Some of our party bled 
freely at the nose. 

When near the Peak, ascending, a sudden cloud 
lifted above it and powdered us Avith a flurry of 
snow, but in a few moments all was clear again. 
A half hour later while peering over the cliff into 
the crater, we were sharply startled by glittering 
flashes of lightning and muttering of thunder far 
below. A little later the cloud was black as night 
and streaks of lightning vivified the darkness, and 
the deep diapason of thunder seemed to shake the 
summit. Heeding the advice of the signal officer, 
who discovered an approaching tempest, the party 
hurried from the Peak, the tardy catching a dash 
of rain and hail mingled with snow as they care- 
fully stepped over the brink of the Peak and tremu- 
lously picked their way down the declivity to their 
liorses. By this time the mountain was shrouded 
in the blackness of darkness, the lurid lightning 
disported with the clouds dangerously near us, and 
tlie rolling thunder savored of the majesty of Sinai. 



127 

And now we go down, down, down, painfully but 
more rapidly than we ascended, through the dis- 
tracting boulders. But soon the splendid scenery 
growing upon dilating vision, becomes a blessed 
relief. You forget fatigue and danger. Descending, 
the forms of nature magnify, or rather resume their 
true relations to the plane of vision. The clifts 
grow more rugged and loftier, and stand out more 
boldly, the mountains swell into grander outlines, 
and scenes which before had excited only passing 
admiration in an endless gallery of ^vonders, now 
expand into surpassing pageants. And now, too, 
you become suddenly surprised at the unimagined 
activity of your faithful horse. A stronger atmos- 
phere proves a hippotonic, perhaps, but you are apt 
to suspect that he knows that his head is turned 
homeward. Unlike a man, too, he prefers descend- 
ing to climbing. Perhaps it is because he has a 
load to carry. Anyhow, he shambles along gaily 
when the narrow trail is not perilous, nor thinks 
of halting for a breathing spell until you reach the 
Lake House, when hv halts from habit, and to let 
you spcmd a (juarter for a feeble cup of coffee. You 
take time to ponder too upon the unnoted perils of 



128 

the morning, but you trust your horse and fear no 
danger. He warns you even if a bear or a badger 
lurks in the fastnesses, for he sniffles, and snorts, 
shies, and then stops if prudence dictates. At 
length you return to the head of the grand canon, 
one of the noblest in Colorado, and you descend it 
rapidly with increasing admiration to the terminus 
of tlie toilsome journey. It opens and continues 
to enlarge, like a mammoth telescope, constantly 
displaying to your admiring vision a panoramic 
pageant of wondrous beauty — stupendous cliffs, 
tall turrets, and graceful pinnacles; bastions and 
battlements; noble temples and solemn cathedrals, 
whose steeples prop the clouds; human forms on 
the crags and mysterious images on might}^ pedes- 
tals, and far beyond, the undulating Plains like a 
lilac tinted sea, sweeping off in one mighty billow 
until earth, and air, and sky, blend in dreamy 
harmony. 

Halting at the Iron Spring onc(» more we (juaffed 
again to Olympian Jove and felt like boasting as 
him who taketh his armor off. 



Letter xi ii. 

Fremont's Bromiis — Our Pike's Peak Bunible-Bee Flies 
Hi^dier— MatluMuatical Evidence — Pvetrospective Views 
— Ferns, Flowers, and Foliage — Xo Fragrance and no 
Singing Birds — Manitou Springs — A San:it<irinMi — Ke- 
tnrning for Xew Enterprises. 

■' Burly, dozing hnml)lo-bee : 
Where tnou art is clinif for me ; 
Insect lover of the sun, 
Joy of thy dominion ! 
Sailor of the atmosphere, 
Swimmer of the waves of air." 
Prithee tell me how came yon lierc V 

That humble-bee on the snowy helmet of the 
Peak so excited my curiosity tliat I haye since 
taken occasion to examine Fremont's Narratiye of 
his pioneer exploration in 1842, where I find the 
incident related in his own glowin.12; language. He 
had reached the Black Hills in August, and on the 
14th, while (dimbing to a lofty snow and ice-clad 
summit, at a point ten thousand iv.et aboye the sea 
level, he says : 



iP,() 

"I was taken suddenly ill after we had encamped "■•• '^' * 
with violent headache and vomiting:. * This was 

probably caused by excessive fatigue an<l want of food, and 
perhaps, also, in some measure by the rarity of the air." 

Two of his men had been similarly affected. 
Farther up, he adds, "at this point I was attacked 
with headache and giddiness, accompanied by vom- 
iting." 

On the loth lie reports : 

"We mounted the barometer in the snow of the sunnnit, 
and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the American 
flag to wave in the breeze where never llag waved before. 
During our morning's ascent we had met no sign of animal 
life, excepting the small sparrowdike bird already men- 
tioned. A stillness the most profound and terrible solitude 
forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great fea- 
tures of the place. Here on the summit — nearly four de- 
grees (two hundred and forty miles) north of Pike— where 
the stillness was al)Solute, unbroken by any sound, and soli- 
tude complete, we thought ourselves beyond the region of 
animated life; but while we were sitting on the rock a soH- 
tary bee — bromui<, the humhlc-hrc — came winging his flight 
from the eastern valley and lit on the knee of one of the men. 

" It was a strange i)lace, the icy rock and the hir/hexf peak 
of the Rocky Mounialns, for a lover of warm sunshine and 
flowers; and we pleased ourselves with the idea that he was 
the first of his species to cross the mountain barrier — a soli- 
tary pioneer to tell the advance of civilization. J believe 
that a moment's thought would have made us let him con- 
tinue his wav unharmed ; but we carried out the law of this 



country, where all animated nature seems at war, and seiz- 
ing him immediately, put him in at least a fit place, — in the 
leaves of a lari,^e book, among the flowers we had collected 
on our way. The ])arometer stood at 18-293, the attached 
thermometer at 44^, giving for the elevation of this sunnnit 
thirteen thousand five hundred and seventy feet above the 
Gulf of Mexico, which may be called the highest flight of 
the bee. // /,s <rrfalnh/ the highest knoirii, Jiight of that himi. 
Vroxn the description given by Mackenzie of the mountains 
when he crossed them, with that of a French officer still to 
the north, and Col. Long's measurements to the south, joined 
to the opinion of the oldest traders of the country, it is pre- 
anmed that fJiis is the Jtighest peak in the country. ^^ 

Frcniout was evidently ignorant of the measure- 
ment of Pike in 1806, who at that time, with 
instruments inferior, however, to those of later 
(late, reported the altitude of Pike's Peak ten thous- 
and live hundred and eighty one feet above the 
level of the Plains, and eighteen thousand five 
hundred and eigdity-one feet above the sea — or five 
thousand feet higher than Fremont's bumble-hee 
Peak. Pike, however, had assumed the elevation 
of the Plains to be eight thousand feet, so that 
after all, his mensuration was comparatively cor- 
rect. The latest measurement of Pike's Peak gives 
it an altitude of fourteen thousand one hundred 
and fort3^-seven feet. Subsequent explorations have 



132 

developed many loftier peiiks than Freemont's — 
such as Grey's, Long's, Howard's, Bcrthoud's, Evan's, 
James', and Lincoln's, mostly in view of each other. 

But it devolved upon me, at al)out one o'clock 
p. M., mercury at forty degrees, on the 28th of June, 
1879, to ''raise Fremont's l)lufl'" a mile, and ten- 
derly hundle a vagrant Bromu^ (humhle-bee) at 
"the highest known flight of that insect." What 
eccentric zephyr wafted that yellow breeched bum- 
ble-bee to that lofty sunnnit, only the dark un- 
fathomed canons can disclose. I close this topic 
with the observati(Hi that animal and reptile life 
is vigorous even at these high altitudes, for the 
peaks are vital with voracious mountain rats and 
badgers, which thrive on reptiles as well as the 
scanty vegetation which grows in the crevices and 
luxuriates in the sand that falls in gritty rivulets 
from disintegrating rocks. 

T am constrained to remark in connection with 
Fremont's report of the fragrance of the fkjwers on 
the plains, that his sense of smell must have been 
more delicate than mine. Home of my l)rother 
editors have since insisted that the aroma of the 
mountain flowers was delicious, but I think they 



183 

were iiuposed upon by imajxination. It is natural 
to associate perfunK^ with flowers. Of various vari- 
eties of riowers I cuilled on the phiins, as well as on 
the mountains, not one was fragrant. Tliey were 
uniformly odorless, although many excelled in 
brilliancy of coloring and dainty tints. Some of 
the plants, not strictly flowering, especially the 
artemesia, which is the wild salvia, are pun- 
gent enough to permeate the atmosphere wdierever 
found in masses. Tlie beautiful campanula — the 
dri/'dd of these scenes — which charmed me more 
than any other bloom on the mountains — except- 
ing, perliaps, the graceful blue bell — where it was 
exuberant in the perfectly dry and apparently 
sterile gravel — the detritus of friable rock which 
covered the acclivities fathoms deep — was abso- 
lutely scentless. Even the monads of the Peak, 
tho puny Indian ])ink and midgy mosses above the 
snow-line, luxuriant in perpetual moisture, smelled 
only of the I'ank soil wiiere they vegetate. I state 
as a general fact, that the flowers of the Plains and 
Rocky Mountains are without perfume, and the 
few l)irds that flit among the pineries and nest in 
the thickets do not sing. They simply chirp. I 



134 

observed the same peculiar facts in the mountains 
and plains of California in 1850. 

While toilsomely scaling the tajfdy steeps which 
lead up the grand defile to the Peak, my senses 
were enterprising, and eagerly explored the seclu- 
sions of Nature Avithin their radia. My eyes were 
inappeasable, as well as my nose, hence 1 think 
my observations as accurate as they could be in 
a general examination. The principal flora and 
animal life in view were catalogued on memory's 
tablet. Among the flowers which chielly attracted 
my attention I mention the elegant columbine, 
much finer and more delicate than our domesticated 
varieties. The familiar clematis of our trellises 
with its clustering white blossoms, was abundant 
on the brink of water-courses near the base of the 
mountains, 1)ut I missed it among the rocky heights. 
The jalapa too, with its morning glory bloom, occa- 
sionally enriched the thickets in the valleys with 
its dark velvety foliage and starry flowers. The 
artemesia leaves us at the foot of the ridges, but 
the l)arl)ed yucca crops out in an occasional desola- 
tion. The cheerful mountain astei' greets you con- 
tinually by the wayside and smiles a ])right fare- 



185 

\Yc\\ only at tlio snow-lino. The blue-lx'll loft ns 
in a voi-(hint valo >six thousand foot al)ove tho i)hi- 
toau wlicnco we started. The mountains are not 
richly /miished, though maiden's hair continuously 
crept from crevices, and other familiar varieties of 
ferns adorned pretty alcoves near the tumbling 
waters of the chasm. Tho cottonwood is the tree 
of the desert; the pine and hemlock trees, of the 
mountains — interspersed with the elegant aspen, 
whoso lighter and more delicate leaves quivering 
ever in the breeze blend harmoniously with the 
dark evergreens — start in thickets from tho chasm 
and ohunbor in confusion to dizzy parapets which 
seem to llirt with the sky. And the waving wil- 
low grows in groves in rich plateaus, watered by 
tho swift descending mountain streams. In the 
highost gorge between towering peaks, most of the 
larger timber has been swept down by hurricanes, 
and lies prone among the rocks, resembling a great 
drift after a summer flood. IMany of their tapering 
trunks have been seamed and scorched with fire, 
but thoso that have escaped have boon weather- 
burnishod until they glisten in tho distance like 
columns of ]iolished marble. Intervening spaces 
10 



136 

are choked with a tangled growth of you 112: pines, 
which odorize the atmosphere with resinous pun- 
gency. Lake Morain, in this lofty gorge, flows 
water toward three quarters of the horizon. — east, 
west, and southward to the Pacific. The Seven 
Lakes, which lie off south westwardly from the Peak 
in a neighboring basin of romantic wildness, form 
another reservoir of the continental drains. The 
comparative absence of lichens in these ranges has 
been mentioned. I saw none at all on the fallen 
pines, and but few on the rocks. But these are 
only incirlents of these overpowering regions, the 
decorations and reliefs of the startling sculpture 
and stupendous architecture of Nature wliicli dom- 
inate the reverent mind. Not the groves, Init the 
mountains, were God's first temples. 

The mineral springs at Manitou, to which we 
descend at sunset, after eleven hours of drudging 
travel, and travail, as eagerly as we h'ft tlicm in 
the glowing morning, arc objects of curious interest. 
The early American explorers adopted their Fi'ciich 
designation, l\)ntaineH-(iui-h(mille (boiling springs), 
for reasons not recorded. Pah<joH(i, is the Spanish 
name for similar springs in a neighboring range. 



187 

It is pr()l>;il>lc tluit tlu\v \v(M'o so nanicd l)v some 
French ex])loier antecedent to the Louisiana cession 
bv tlie Freneh. The si)rinjj;s an^ not liot, as their 
name indieates, but are merely efferveseing. They 
hul)l)h> tlirough fissures in the valley, and ajipear 
tol)e l)oilinu-. The diflference between the tempera- 
ture of the air and tlie Avater of the s])rings in the 
summer is frcmi twelve to fifteen degrees, the water 
being coolest. German travelers liave compared 
tliem Avith the famous Seltzer waters of Germany. 
Tlie three |)rincipal flows that have been utilized, 
are the chalybeate spring in the mouth of the great 
canon that leads toward the Peak; a strong sulphur 
s})ring, and a soda spring, decidedly more pungent 
than the artificial soda. Fremont also found soda 
sj>rings in the Wviw i-ivei- valley, and they al)ound 
in these I'anges. G(Mitl(Mnen who have tried the ex- 
])erim(Mit, assert that with spirituous mixture the 
soda waters make a lil)ation fit for the gods. The 
rocks about the iron spring are rusted, and those 
over which the soda, spring flows are encrusted 
with an ellloresence of purest white. A lemon 
s(|Ueezed into a. glass of this natural soda caused 
it to effervesce like a solution of seidlitz. The 



138 

clear waters are agreeable to the taste, and laxative. 
Of course they are panacea. I never heard of a 
mineral spring that was not. I observe likewise 
that invalids generally, as well as healthy persons 
who desire sturdiness, are prone to tincture such 
waters. The keepers of hotels at sueh places have 
(Jrug stores to meet requisitions that are as sure to 
be made upon them as the flow of water in the 
fountains. I may add that the sanitary properties 
of the soda spring, especially, are highly commend- 
ed by Pike's Peak adventurers who return marode 
after their all day churn on a Colorado pony. They 
apply them internally with tine spirit, externally 
in a bath, and reappear elfervescent, with an a|)])e- 
tite for another internal api)lication appropriately 
tinctured. 

The sanatoi-ian in pursuit of health and I'cci'ca- 
tion is apt to feel somewhat disappoiuted as lie 
i-ides from the railway station through the blind- 
ing dust to his temporary retreat in the gorge, 
but after a soda bath and an excellent dinner 
at a neat and commodious hotel, he feels re- 
moralized, forgets the dusty highways and ai-id 
atmosphere, enjoys the tumbling torrc^nt that riots 



181) 

under luxuriant thickets, entertains himself con- 
t'Mnplating the ragiicd nioiiutains, and never ceases 
adniirino; the pi^ak of Pike. lUit tliose wlio most 
enjoy this wild retreat — not hy nny means a seclu- 
sion — are campars who, oriianizinii- a pleasant outfit 
at Denver, drive leisuixdy up tlu^ verdant valley of 
tlu^ Platte, cain])ing l)y th(> \vayside as inclination 
dietat(\s, meander down through the cemeterial 
ch:irms of AFonument Park, and cam}) around the 
Uai'den of the (Jods and at the entrances of wild 
canons, until the penetrating winds of autumn drive 
them hack to civilized environments. Unfortu- 
n;itely the wild torrents that hound in countless 
cascad(\s from the mountains to the valleys in this 
region of Colorado are now compai'ati V(dy fishless. 
Trout, once ahundant, are but rarely taken. P]x- 
cepting your conventional diversions at the hotels, 
and the exhilerating atmosphere which excites the 
blood like ether, youi" i-ecreations consist of rand)les 
in the (larden of the Gods, exploi'ations of tlu^ 
canons, and sealing the mountains. I think a 
vagrant month could be most tlioroughly eni<>yed 
at Manitou. 

You may ask of the expense. Four dollars per 



140 

diem for transient visitors, a disc^oant l\)r families, or 
a protracted sojourn ; three dollars a day for a good 
horse and buggy; five for a good hack with intelli- 
ger.t whip to act as guide; from three to five dol- 
lars for a sure-footed pony to ride to the Peak; and 
mineral baths fifty cents. Extras as you clioose. 
I heard visitors complain that stimulants at the 
hotel bars are twenty-five cents for anything, but 
that a remedy was found hard-by in several saloons. 
Lager-beer on draft flows fr^'ely. The first sign 
you descry as you enter the village is — "Lager." 
On the whole, the terms are just about the same as 
at equivalent watering places in the east, and the 
bill of fare compares favorably in quality and 
variety, for the gardens in the adjacent valleys are 
productive, and the Colorado Springs market well 
supplied with beef and game. California fruits are 
furnished for dessert. 

Aft(U- two days of complete pleasure and novel 
excitement, as well as instructive in an exalting 
degree, tlie Ohio editors found themselves return- 
ing to Denve]-, and prepared for new adventures. 



Letter xiv. 

From Denver' to the (Jold Regions — The (rardens of tht* 
Valley — ^Golden City — A Flume on Stilts — Clear Creek 
Canon — Inspiration Rock — The Old Woman — George- 
town (iorge — The Miners — Pictures in Memory's Hall — 
The River Placers — 'Black Hawk and Central City — A 
High School — Railway Zigzag, ttc. 

From Denver to the gold mines around Cen- 
tral City is a brief and pleasant railway ride of 
forty miles. The Denver Paeific Railway, standard 
gauge, earries you sixteen miles to Golden City, 
where you transfer to a narrow-gauge train, pi'efer- 
ring an observation ear that you may better survey 
the seenei-y. This sixteen miles embraces the best 
farming country 1 have seen in C'olorado. ft is 
irrigated IVom the mountain torrents, and well cul- 
tivated. The soil is fertile, <|uick as a propagating 
house, and exceedingly productive. It is tin' gar- 
den of Dcnv(U- and the uiining settlements accessi- 
ble by rail. An industrious man here ''with a little 



142 

farm ,well tilled and a little wife well willed" 
should prosper. Lands worth from twenty-five to 
one hundred dollars per acre according to location 
and production. Those nearest Denver are held at 
fancy rates. The farms are small; mere su1>urhan 
vegetable gardens. 

Golden City, the portal of the gold regions is now, 
and ever will be, but little more than a i-ailway 
junction of inconsiderable consequence. It is pic- 
turesquely situate in an irregular basin l):'t\veen a 
bold butte and an abrupt range of foot-hills. Its 
general aspect is droughty. Clear Creek tumbles 
into it impetuously, but its water su])ply is --or 
rather was — flowed from a point some miles up the 
gorge through a wooden flume, trestleated as high 
as church steeples against the mountains. This 
frail accpieduct is going to deca3\ In fact it is now 
in ruins. The Holly system has been substituted 
for it. Crolden City was the second capital of tlie 
territory, and its glory departed with the removal 
of tlie capitol to Denver. A smelting establish- 
ment is its main industry, and the railway junc- 
tion gives it its ]irinci])al importance. 

The train draws out of Golden directlv into the 



]4P> 

famous Clear Creek canon, where you are suddenly, 
transported to scenes of rudi' .urandeur. Tlie torrent 
leaps from rock to rock in tumultuous uproar, and 
finds no pool of quiet in many miles. It is, in fact, 
a long, crooked, ril)ald, nni<ldy cataract. Before its 
once pellucid waters were defiled by miners' mud it 
must have been b?autiful exceedingly. It courses 
tlirough a narrow gap and tlie In'oken cliffs vault 
above it hundreds upon hundred^ of feet. For scmie 
miles tlie scaly walls approach each otlier so nearly 
that there is scant room for the creek and track. 
They seem to contend for right of way. At several 
points bold engineering was necessary to make way 
for the locomotive, and the hank of the cataract is 
paved to prevent erosion of the railway fills. Your 
midget train crawls slowly up and around a sinu- 
ous route, compared with which the Pennsylvania 
Horse Shoe may be said to be a bee-line. The grade 
is from two hundred to two hundred and seventy- 
eight feet to the mile, until you reach the base of 
the mountain, at Central City, where the puny lo- 
comotive boldly attacks the apparently inaccessil>l(^ 
steeps, and by zigzagging four miles climbs five 
hundred and eighty feet! The track describes the 



144 

letter 1^ half reversed. A mountain sheep would 
shake his horns at this hold feat of engineering. 
Frail trestles which leap across ominous chasms 
startle timid travelers, who feel sensibly relieved 
after the}- are safely over. I am almost persuaded 
that when it will pay, some aspiring engineer will 
tackle the moon with a narrow-gauge, !)nd take in 
planets as way stations. 

The track through the canon is a corkscrew — 
pulling you like a stopple from the distended flask 
represented by the golden bowl whence you recently 
popped vvith much steam. The masonry of the 
mountains wherever the eye scans is stupendous, but 
barren almost of the rich frescoing of evergreens 
with which nature generally embellishes her state- 
ly architecture. Prodigious battlements frowning 
above j'^ou in magisterial massiveness almost shut 
out the sky, and seem like the movable walls oi' tlie 
prison in romance — ever pressing to enclose you. 
It is a relief to feel that they are not, and that the 
everlasting rocks forever cumulating thousands of 
feet aloft, are firmly embedded by Nature's plastic 
art. The roar and I'atth' of the train, the noisy 
waters tumbling over obstructing roll-stones and 



145 

fiillcn masses of niountaiii iiiasonrv, or plashing 
into sparlvling spriiv against ol)truding ])i'oiiionto- 
ries, and tlinnitening crags o'orhcad, ('oiifoiiiid tlic 
senses until familiarity restores confidence. Fre- 
quent and abrupt curves make the route a succes- 
sion of bold pictures. Fancy, ever helpful, assists 
in these wild scenes. Far aloft, on a clitl" of critical 
boldness, she has descried ''Inspiration Rock," and 
not far away grim humor carves grotes([Ue outlines 
of a quaint old woman grinning in gray granite. 
On remoter heights upon which the eye can hardly 
linger in its flight, dimly appear mysterious forms 
and startling figures — rude statuary of the crags, — 
tormenting busy imagination with confusing pic- 
tures which Nature left for luiman fancy to com- 
plete. 

The deep, dark gorge, where the Georgetown 
branch of this line connects witli more obscure re- 
gions, is one of the wildest and roughest in this 
range. Two lofty barriers on the wx\st seem press- 
ing together, to close the formidable fissure through 
which the slender railway penetrates, and opposite, 
vast buttresses of sombre masonry threat(!n to choke 
the torrent at their base. Here, as at othei- points. 



14G 

the engineers found only room enougli between the 
rcapid and the cliffs for a track. Nature's aspect 
is menacing and repulsive. lUit it is in sucli seclu- 
sions that she buries her richest treasures, a,nd it is 
just such defiant obstacles the daring miner [issa.iis 
in pursuit of gold. For, not far above, with sli.-irp 
privations and lal)or indescribable, the uncomjuiu'- 
al)le miner long ago established himself triumph- 
antly, and })ioneered the route for this adventurous 
railway. 

But all along the canon from the gap of the 
gorge, we have l:>jen deeply interested in observing 
rude evidences of mining enterprise. On either 
side of the torrent, wherever there aj^pears a possi- 
ble foothold, the clay in tlie mountain side is 
bun-owed with excavations for miners' lodgings, 
wdiih' masses of detrita from gulches leading into 
the canon indicate where they liavc^ prospected. 
To me these perishing monuments of disappointed 
hopes and unlettered graves of l)uried aspirations, 
were deeply interesting. For to me they served as 
a retinting of pictur(es liung long ago in memory's 
misty gallery, for toil and disappointment were 
once my portion, too, in just such scenes. Alas? 



147 

liow many liay visions and ardont liojx'S li(> en- 
tombed under tlu'se delusive stones, re(|uienied by 
nmnnuriim- waters and mocking winds: 

" '•■■ " ■•■ =•■ =•= God pity us all, 

Who vainly the dreams of youth recall." 

Ilajipily, youth is full of eourage, and while time 
may heal the wounds of disa-])]x)intment, it ran 
not remove tlie sears. I am fain to believe that 
sueh vicissitudes in youth tit courageous men for 
later struggles. 

lUit little gold was found Ix'low the Georgetown 
g(^rg(\ The i)aying deposits were above, where 
the cauon spreads to a radius of several hundred 
feet, and the detrita of the mountains accumulated 
111 great bars of rock and gravel, superimposed upon 
a stilfclay. The })hysical fc^itures correspond with 
the river diggings of California — tliough the en- 
vironments are infinitely less romantic. In all my 
prospecting tours in Calilbrnia I saw no such ibr- 
lorn sct'uery. Nature is kindei' there, for with 
c(|ual majesty in the mountains, it softens rugged- 
ness with forests whose splendor is un])aralelled 
elsewhere. '"J'he ])resent aspect of these diggings is 
as confused and desolate as the most discouraged 



14<S 

prospector could imagine. The (lcl:)ris of the ear- 
lier mining enterprises is scattered on the ragged 
banks; deserted dams; fragments of old rockers and 
"long-toms;" and yonder a. dilapidated water-wheel 
that tells you sadly that 

" 1 lie mill has <^oiie to decay." 

Rude masonr}^, and remnants of miners' cal)ins, 
are passing monuments of eager hopes; smoked 
(diimneys that stand like ruined o1>elisks in dreary 
relief against the l)arren mountain sides are elo- 
quent with the stori(is of pioneer privations, and 
the clay among th(; cliffs is Inirrowed and honey- 
combed with cavitii^s that once were lodgings of 
busy men whose fancies glowecl with golden antici- 
pations ; and whose golden bowl was sadly broken. 
i\ll tlie spaces from mountain to mountain declare 
that the whole bed of the <'anon has been ui)heaved 
to its very foundation, and almost the last shin- 
ing ])article extracted. My own little cabin on 
tlu' mountain side, a celabitum of many delightful 
reveries and inspiring visions, was ever present in 
fancy, while passing through these scenes, so like 
those in which T once toiled. 



149 

These Clear CrcH'k hars were worked not only 
onee. They liave heeu upheaved a dozen times 
since lsr)S, when the i)ioneers found their way to 
these drear stMdusions. And now John Chinaman 
is working them with i)atient imhistry — with now 
and tlien an American. The wd.oh' rearli of the 
placer re-ion is owned by companies, and is (h-ained 
and sluiced wlierever the torrent admits paying 
hil)or. The Oriental still works here prolit:d)ly, 1 
am told, where other men would starve. For the 
plain reason that he saves his money and refuses to 
dissipate his hard earnings in riotous livin.u-. This 
is the whole matt"r, and it lies at the foundation of 
California Kearueyism. No return is made of the 
placer uii'.inu-, hence its product can not he ascer- 
tained. It ou-ht to he prolitahl ', for cou-idering 
risks an<l privations, it is among the severest toils 
that mortal man can undertak(>. Pa<<ing through 
the surface diggings, you soon crowd upon otlu'r 
blasted aspirations — great mausoleums of capital 
invested in uni»rofitahle smelting works. (Icneral 
Fitz.Tohn Porter left an unfinished monunient here 
for eastern capitalists, in a great stone pile, wlindi 
was deserted before it was finished, and is now tum- 
bling into ruins. 



150 

And now, at lant you enter the limits of the 
string town of Black Hawk, which straggles up the 
rocky canon on either side of the creek, encroach- 
ing at intervals on the mountains. The railway 
carries you through the valley into a smudge of 
smoke from many smelting chimneys, and your 
ears are confused with the crashing of stamping 
machines crushing the oar for gold. You are in 
the midst of scientific mining. The mountains 
around you arc bare to their summits, and confused 
masses of clay and broken micaceous stone, exca- 
vated from innumerable j)rospect holes and paying 
leads and lodes, have made the rude faces of the 
mountains more ragged than Nature ordered them. 
Every stick of timber that would burn has l)een 
skinned from tlie acclivities to their very summits, 
and distant timber-slides indicate the l;i))()r now 
necessary to su})ply the inhal)itants with fuel. A 
mile up the hill is Central City, which l)egins 
where Black Hawk ends. My (piondam acquaint- 
ance. Col. James F. Meline, in his entertaining 
and instructive volume, described its site in l.S(;6, 
in a fork of the mountains as "a lett(>r V on a 
scale of mountain grandeur." The same descrip- 



151 

tion imswors now. A stco]) street, like going up 
the high l)lutr of the Miiinii that luoks out IVoni 
Calvary Cemetery, only multiplied by several such 
bluffs, leads into it out of Black Hawk. Railway 
travelers, as I have described, zigzag to it, or rather 
above it — up the mountain acclivities, and disem- 
bark in a depot wliich looks down upon the main 
portion of the urban eyrie. It has been compared 
with a Swiss village. It is well constructed of 
wood and brick, in terraces. It has three streets, 
two of them Ibllowing tlie course of deep gulches, 
the third on a critical cliff' runs parallel with the 
planets in that vicinity. Our Roman Catholic 
brethren have poised a school-house — WkjIi school — 
on a crag up there, and in the absence of informa- 
tion on the subject, I am })i()ne to imagine that 
the pupils ascend to it in balloons. Many of 
the business houses are surprisingly good and 
were manifestly built for permanence. The Teller 
House — so named for its buikler, one of Colorado's 
United States Senators — is a spacious four-story 
edifice, that would be creditable in Ohio. Hard- 
l)y is a neat biick opera-house where "Pinafore" 
was advertised when I was there. You ^scer^d, or 
11 



152 

descend, from house to house, something like going 
up or down stairs. When the winter snows melt 
the torrents tumble through town in wild confu- 
sion. In summer, water is almost as expensive as 
whisky, hence the people do not waste it, and 
bibbers drink "straight." It is likewise the home 
of statesmen. The State was born only thi'ce 
years ago, and ('enti'al City has already given us 
Representative Belford, and United States Sena- 
tors Chaffee, Teller, and Hill. All gilt-edged Re- 
publicans. 

This reminds me that previous to the discovery 
of gold in California, the majority of emigrants to 
western wilds were Democrats. Hence the new 
territories and States were usually Democratic. 
The prospect of speedy fortune opened by the dis- 
covery of gold, drafted the best energy and intelli- 
gence of our vigorous young men, and the character 
of emigration radically changed. The Republican 
population of the older States swarmed into the 
new ten-itories, as well where the soil was rich, as 
where the rocks were ribbed with gold and silver. 
Hence the new territories and States are Repub- 
lican, and the Republican majorities in the old 



153 

reliable States have Iwen critically reduced. If 
Missouri expects to be aroused and invigorated 
during this century, she should discover carbonates 
of silver and sulpliurets of gold. This will draw 
energetic and intelligent people to her rich terri- 
tory. The precious metals are irresistable magnets. 
At Central City, Mr. J. W. Hanna, formerly of 
Marietta, Ohio, and now principal owner of the 
"O K," one of the profitable mines in that region, 
assumed direction of a half dozen of our party who 
desired surface introduction into the m3'steries of 
scientific mining, hitched a stout team of horses, 
and ch-a,gged us up the mountain to investigate its 
auriferate (qualities. Inasmuch as a descent into 
one hole in the ground anywhere, is much like 
a descent into another hole anywheres else, it is 
unnecessary to exercise descriptive faculties here. 
You descend in a cask several hundred feet and 
wind through a dark drift six or eight feet in 
diameter, guided l)y the dim mysterious light of 
a tallow dip. The mineis wear little lamps in the 
frontlet of their hats as in coal mines, which sug- 
gest an odd i-esemblnnce to mammotli lire-llies. 
You are pleased with a glitter of various sub- 



154 

stances, chiefly micaceous, on the cheeks of the 
drift, gather specimens, and return to daylight. 
You see no gold, for it is concealed in ore — sul- 
phurets and pyrites — and requires smelting to 
separate it from nature's dross. The most at- 
tractive specimens for the eye are those which 
display the largest surface of " peacock," that 
shines with a bluish glitter like polished steel. 
Mr. Hanna invited us to take all we could carry, 
and I accordingly embellished my Lake Superior 
and Silver Islet rockery. I shall not weary you 
with a description of the mining and smelting pro- 
cess. The public library has authorities that will 
inform you on that subject. The "Bobtail Mine" 
is the richest in this region, and belongs to ex- 
Senator Chaflee. it was poetically so-called from a 
bang-tailed ox with which the original prospector 
opened this rich recess of nature. It may be styled 
a bully mine. 

Wliile in the mining regions you are often 
amazed at mule trails and acclivitous wagon roads 
used by miners and traders. Glancing at these 
trails on the lofty steeps safely followed by sure- 
footed mules, you fancy that they would be almost 



155 

perilous to a sqnirrol. Rut I was assurpfl in Cali- 
fornia that a mule coukl climb the Calaveras 
trees. The snow-clad cap of James' Peak, here 
looks down upon us in glitterino; grandeur. After 
a pleasant and profitable afternoon, Mr. Hanna 
added to our obligations by depositing his gratified 
guests at the Black Hawk station, from whence, a 
little later, we descried our train far up on the 
summit, carefully winding its way down to our 
smudgy depth. The grade is so sharp hence to 
Golden that after starting, the railway train could 
swiftly run the route by its own momentum. 



Letter xv. 

Returning from Central City — Dairies Among the Crags — 
Shepherds an Abomination to the Egyptians — Ohio Men — 
Invahds and the Phantom of Healtli — Tront Tempta- 
tions — Round-Up — Sahara and Arcadia. 

Returning from Central City, the stupendous 
aspect of the great canon presents itself in its most 
inspiring grandeur. The prodigious bights and 
precipitous cliffs grow upon the vision, and the 
snow-capped range which dominates all surround- 
ings, passes away in dissolving views of surpassing 
splendor. 

At rugged debouchments of wild gulches among 
these formidable precipices, which, to eyes accus- 
tomed to our amiable scenery at home, appear like 
inaccessible acclivities, you are amused, as well as 
amazed, to not(^ that human enterprise has convert- 
ed the steeps into pastures, and that two energetic 
families have established dairies where it would 
seem that a goat, which fattens on dramatic posters, 



Kn" 



jr.? 

could scarcelj^ pick a scanty subsistence from the 
tliin and scrawny verdure in tlie crevices. Yet the 
industrious kinc, as indefatigable as their courage- 
ous owners, manage to find boscage enough to keep 
themselves sleek and lactant. You would almost 
as soon think of establishing a dairy on a Miami 
river sand-bar. Nevertheless the cows yield the 
richest of golden-tinted milk abundantly, and the 
dairymen find read}^ market for it at sevent}^ cents 
per gallon, wholesale. I imagine that goats would 
be better adapted to these rockeries. 

Speaking of cattle, reminds me that there is an 
irrepressible feud between the Colorado cattle and 
sheep men. The herders seem to have imbibed the 
ancient Egyptian antipathy to shepherds. Readers 
of sacred history will remember that Khedive Joseph 
admonished his brethren to say to Pharoah : "Thy 
servants' trade hath been about cattle from our 
youth even until now, both we, and also our fathers," 
and he assigned as a reason for this pious evasion, 
that " every shepherd is an abomination unto the 
Egyptians," doubtless for the same reason that Colo- 
rado shei)herds are an abomination unto the cattle 
men. The sheep litter the pasturage and make it 
offensive to cattle. Moreover the sheep men hearti- 



158 

ly reciprocate the animosity of tlie herders, because 
the cattle occupy such vast ranG;es of pasture lands 
as to interfere with their interests. Farmers and 
stock-feeders of the Ohio Valley may readily com- 
prehend this upon reflecting that it requires fifty 
acres of average Colorado pasture to fatten a steer. 
But remember that these cattle are not fed with 
hay, fodder, or grain, at any time. They browse 
exclusively for their Hesh. As usual, Ohio men 
step to the front even in this business, Messrs. 
Will, and Val. Dickey, of Dayton, being among the 
largest, if not the most extensive cattle-feeders in 
Colorado. Their herds num])er eight thousand head, 
and they range over three counties. Instead ot 
driving their cattle to the customary market this 
year, they have l)uilt a commodious abattoir at 
Leadville, from which they supply the miners with 
meat. (Jol. Walter B. Pease, also a Daytonian, whose 
graceful and instructive letters occasionally interest 
readers of the -Iouiinal, contents himself with the 
cont(unpla,tive jind ruminntive life of a peaceful 
shepherd in tlic neighboring wilds of New Mexico. 
Ohio men, too, are among the principal silver 
miners, ex-Governor Evans, formerl}^ of Ohio, be- 
ing one of the most successful operators, as well as a 



159 

controlino- ownrvof iho South I^irk ( narrow-pjauge) 
l^Milway, now moving r;ii)i(lly upon Leadvillo, and 
onward as circumstan(M^s mav dictate Mr. Frank 
Dunlcvy, of Cincinnati, and tlio well-known "Billy" 
Smith, of that city, arc also extensive silver opera- 
tors. John Delano and Joe Dwyer, well-known 
Buckeyes, are reputed to have made "a pile" in 
carhonates. It was liktnvise mentioned as a dul)i- 
ons trihute to Ohio enterprise^ that the most desper- 
ate " road agent" ever known to condnct whol(>sale- 
highway robhing enterprises in the Rocky Moun- 
tains was an Ohio man. 

At Golden again, yon are surprised at the nnm- 
l)er of l)usiness men going hack to their avocations 
(Monday evening) at Denver from their summer 
homes at Idaho Springs and Este's Park. They 
go up into the mountains Saturday to visit then- 
families, and angle for l)rook trout. They tell 
tempting stories of trout fishing, elk hunting, and 
mountain strawberries— a most dainty and deli- 
cious fruit. Este's Park is at t,he foot of Long's 
Peak, one of tin; loftiest sunnnits in all the Colorado 
range of Pvocky Mountains. Some of the invalids 
here camp out in tents and while away the sum- 
mer pleasantly, pursuing the phantom of health as 



160 

they who nro not entirely without hope; others in 
comfortable cottages; and pleasure seekers in an 
elegant hotel managed ])y one of the famous Stet- 
sons. "Billy " Smitli tempted mo with a prospect 
of a hundred speckled trout a day — "millions in 
it" — near this noble Park, and I can't tell now how 
I resisted that and his mountainous hospitality. 

And now, in a brief fortnight, we have com- 
passed seventeen hundred miles of railway travel, 
accepted irresistible hospitalities innumerable; 
mounted Pike's Peak; drank in with appetite that 
grew upon what it fed, the weird attractions of the 
Garden of the Gods; penetrated the golden, mys- 
teries of the aural mountains, and are yearning for 
home again. The mind's eye docs not roll in fine 
frenzy across the drear}^ plains. There is a mental 
and moral repulsion about the solemn intervening 
prospect somewhat like the sentiment that affects 
him who stands on a distant foreign shore contem- 
plating the wild and forlorn distance of the ocean 
between himself and home. 

But once across this desolate expanse, basking 
again in the verdure and luxuriance of the "(lolden 
Belt" and Kansas prairies, it seems like a llight 
from Sahara to Arcadia. 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX 



The aiinuiil address of 1871), before the Ohio Editorial 
Association, was dehvered at the reunion banquet in Cin- 
cinnati on the nijrht of .lune lUth, )jy Hon. Whitelaw Keid, 
editor of tlie New York Tribune, on "The Ideal Newspaper 
of the Future." 1 pubish merely his introduction, that being 
specially addressed to the Association. President Mack, 
introducing Mr. Reid, happily mentioned that among other 
Ohio products, it had been her fortune to give to the country 
some of its most distinguished editors, such as Whitelaw 
Reid, of the New York Tribune; Murat Halstead, «.f the 
Cincinnati Connnercial ; Samuel K. Reed, of the Cincinnati 
Gazette; Joseph Medill, of the Chicago Tribune; Joseph 
McCulIagh, of the St. Louis Clobe-Democrat ; William D. 
Howells, of the Atlantic Monthly, and Henry V. Boynton, 
the Washington correspon<lent of the Cincinnati Gazette. 

Mr. Reid said : 

"First of all, my best thanks for remembering for three 
years in succession my birthright as an Ohio editor. It is 



164 

something I could never forget, but you might liave done 
so very easily. We fancy, tliose of us who were contem- 
poraries then, that we are still tolerably young, but in our 
secret hearts it does flatter every one of us now to be still 
spoken of sometimes as * the young editor.' It is twenty- 
one years this fall since, with boyish pride, 1 first saw my 
name printed at the head of the editorial columns in my 
old paper at Xenia, and holding up the sheet again and 
again, puzzled over the important question whether or not 
it would look better in some other type. How little any 
of us then realized that the types we were using then 
would have something to do with the way our names 
should look now ! 

" Well, those that are left of us, of the country editors 
of Ohio of that day, have at least served our apprentice- 
ship: for good or ill, somehow or another, we have attained 
our majority. 

"I remember a smallish, solid, prosperous looking ex- 
change of those days, which edited the county printing 
with pious care, as well it might, for though tlie Bucyrus 
Journal editor was then known only as plain D. R. Locke, 
ex-jour, printer and a red-hot Rei^ublican, he was soon to 
burst on us as the Rev. Petroleum V. Nasby. Tlien, as 
now, the Ashtabula Scnthiel was in the hands of a How- 
ells, but the young son of the editor had gone down to 
Columbus, and was trying to see whetlier tliere was enough 
stuff in him to make a leader-writer for the State Journal, 



165 

at a salary of twelve dollars a week. Toleraljly fair work 
he did, but he was dreadfully given to very misty German 
novehs, and t<» reading his long translations, at extremely 
unreasonal)le hours to sleei)y-headed friends, whom he 
might inveigle to his rooms. Ills name was William D. 
Howells, and lie now edi(s the Atlantie Monthly. His 
chief, there, had no alaruiing weakness then in the way 
of German sentimentalism ; l)ut he was ready to wander 
away from his unlinished editorial at any hour, tlay or 
night, for the chance of linding a German band in a con- 
cert saloon; and that tendency at least has survived the 
changes, the added i)Owers and the wider inlhicnce the 
Press and the (Jazette and twenty years have wrought 
upon Mr. Sanuiel II. Heed. In those days tlie State Journal 
was thought to be rather putting on airs, for it not only 
had two editors (Reed and Howells), but it indulged in the 
luxury of a publisher who ran two i)ai>ers, both <iaily, and 
he published them so well that presently he became head 
of the Washington branch of the great house that placed 
the war loans, and ( Jovernor Henry D. Cooke, of the Dis- 
trict of Columbia. 

"There was a lively 'local' then on the Cleveland riain 
Dealer. He had l)(.'en a tram{)ing jour., and scattered over 
Ohio from the river to the lakes were sundry boarding- 
houses in towns where struggling papers had given up the 
ghost, and this jour, had moved on, uni)aid hiniself, and 
with an eyer-swelling array of unpaid board bills behind 



166 

him. At last he 'struck it fiit,' and ])aclv lie came on his 
old trail among us through southern Oliio, wliere every l)iil 
that Charley Browne had left was paid hy Artemus Ward. 
Poor, genial, reckless Browne! 1 am glad I never saw 
him after he left Ohio, for the career hy which lie is to 
be remembered was then ovt^r, mid the rest was painfuh 

"In those days Richard iSmith had oidy lately ceased to 
be Associated Press agent, and he was still the commercial 
and financial editor of tlie (Jazette. He was the kindest 
and most indulgent of managers; but neither I nor any of 
his other wicked i)artners had then fully awakened to his 
extraordinary true goodness. 

"On the next block the (Commercial was making intermi- 
nable talk about its wonderful four-cyhnder press. Potter 
was still active, but a young fellow named Ualstead, who 
had for some time been the scissors of the establishment, 
was coming to the front. He had already learned the 
secret of making a good news[)aper, for he was inventing 
special trains iiom Columbus or special dispatches from 
Xenia to enable him to get into the Commercial in time 
for the midnight editions, one day ahead of the (iazette, 
whole columns of clippings fr(jm the' latest New York 
papers. Pap Taylor lia<l already secured for that grotesque 
produ(;tion of those <lays, the Dollar Weekly Times, a cir- 
culation of over a hundred thousand cojties, and Starbuck 
was wisely administcj-ing the tr-ust. Kindly old fellow, he 
didn't vyit(;h the world with noble editing; but I never 



167 

think of him Avithout gratitude, for lie engaged me to write 
him a Cohini])Us letter every day for live dollars a week, 
when 1 was more than glad to get the job. 

"Bickliam shone then as the red-riblxjii reporter of 
all the agricultural fairs, lie was yet to serve an army 
apprenticeship before rising to the dignity and dollars of 
our Dayton Warwick. Nichols had rivals then in Spring- 
field. He had not yet starved them all out. riunib had 
just left my own old office in Xenia to start on the Kansas 
road, that has led him to the United States Senate. 

"But a truce to these reminiscences — a sure sign that 
we are growing old. Let me only say how glad and proud 
1 am to find a i)lace kept for me among this younger gener- 
ation of Ohio country editors. Young or old, we all agree 
in this: we are all proud we are Ohioans, whether we live 
here or not — i)roud that we were born here, i)roud of 
Ohio's soldiers, proud of Ohio's statesmen, proud that she 
has heltl the White House for twelve years, and to believe 
that, with one i)arty or another, she is to hold it for at 
least four more; pnnid ot' her wealth in great names, and 
great resources; proudest of all of the noble, generous peo- 
[)le; the nameless masses who make the noble State, the 
gracious motlier of us all." 

"the (JREAT moral ENCilNE." 

I also inchule in this volume the response of Murat Hal- 
istead, of the Cincinnati Commercial, to the above senti- 

12 



168 

ment, Mr. Halstea<l having l)eeii selected as the repre- 
sentative host oil this occasion, of the Cincinnati press. It 
is proper to explain that Mr. Halstead, in his opening sen- 
tences referred to an essay delivered by Samuel li. Reed, 
of the Cincinnati Gazette, on "The Great Moral Engine," 
at the reunion of the Association in Columbus in 1875. 

" The Great Moral Engine." 

ResjKHise l)y Murat Halstead. 

Mr. Halstead said: 

"Ladies and Gentlemen: If there is not a typographical 
mistake about this toast there is an error in calling upon 
me to respond to it. The subject is one that I think there 
is a copyright for, and it will be imi)roper in me to speak 
under the hardship of an infringement. If there has been 
a typographi(;al error, and the toast is, 'The Immoral En- 
gine,' why, there would be a manifest impropriety in calling 
upon me to respond to tiiat, for I am not an engineer of 
any machine of that character. 

" 1 am sure I speak for the citizens of Cincinnati when 
I say tliat we are very glad to see the con<luctors of the 
local press in the State among us. They are, in a remarka- 
ble degree, representative men. It has been, according to 
my recollection, twenty-five years since the members of 
the press of Ohio, as an organized body, visited and were 
entertained by the people of Cincinnati. 

" In 1854 the organization came liere. The spokesman at 
that time, of the country papers of Ohio, as we then called 



IGIJ 

them, was Mr. S. S, Cox, e<litor of the Oliio Statesman. 
Th(^ press of Cincinnati was represented — tlie Gazette by 
.Jii(l<^e Wri<,'ht and Mr. Bruen; the Times by Mr. Starbuck 
and Mr. Taylor; tiie Enquirer by Mr. H, H. Robinson; 
the Columbian by Mr. W. T. (xoggeshall ; the ('onuuercial 
by Mr. M. D. l*otter, INIr. Henry Reed, and myself. We 
undertook, on that occasion, to have two banquets, one at 
the Spencer House and one at the Burn6t House. The 
cue at the Burnet House was <^otten up with the idea of 
j^etting the visitiuf^ editors so far under the influence of 
stimulating drinks that they could not by any })ossibility 
get to the Spencer House. [Laughter.] You will be inter- 
ested to know that there was not a man among them who 
did not go to the Spencer in good order after the Burnet 
House ellbrt. [Laughter.] It was remarked that their 
heads were bomb-proof — the most so of any citizens of 
the State of Ohio. Some of the Cincinnati editors who 
attempted the double-headed entertainment were them- 
selves overcome by the l)landishments of their own hospi- 
tality, and were not all of them able to participate to the 
end. One of our most able editors undertook that evening, 
after the two banquets, to write a i)aragrai)h, to see how it 
would read in the morning. He put it in his iiat where 
he would be certain not to miss it. In the morning he 
found some manuscript wiiich upon examination, proved 
to be his own handwriting. It was as follows: 'It is im- 
possible to describe the festivities of this extraordinary 



170 

occasion in sucli a manner as to do adequate justice to 
the festivities of tliis extraordinary occasion.' [Laughter.] 
That would have done well as an account of many a 
festivity since. It ought to have been stereotyped. Gen- 
tlemen, I am not aware that there is any one person who 
participated in those extraordinary festivities twenty-five 
years ago, who is here to-night, with the exception of 
myself. 

" I had intended to say something about the relations 
of our municipal government with the influence of our 
country communities in State affairs, but I am admonished 
to be brief. I have only to say to the people of the country 
represented here and the different cities and communities 
that make up the surroundings of the city of Cincinnati, 
that I think they should remember in the course of the 
labors of legislation that often the best thing to do is noth- 
ing. The people will sometimes bear letting alone. The 
way to suppress usury, for example, is to have free trade 
in money. The way to regulate the li(juor traffic is to 
license it. Let it be lawful to sit in the shade, and do udt 
post all the pleasant avenues, 'keep off the grass.' 

"Cincinnati is fortunate in lier location and happy in 
her surroundings. You have marked her growth through 
evil report and hard times. She has shared her prosperity 
with the cities tiiat cluster around her, in which she finds 
not only rivalry and reproach but mutual interests and the 
assurance of permanent prosperity. It has seemed for a 
time as if the very opulence and manifold advantages 



171 

of the country that is about us had interfered with our 
development, and no doubt ehea]) coal, which is cheap 
power, and ehgible situations in the ncigliborhood, have 
prevented tlie concentration of industries here, and aided 
buil(Unj,^ up a score of superb cities, such as Zanesville, 
Newark, C'ohnnbus, Alcron, Mansfield, Springfield, Dayton, 
Hamilton, Richmond, and others. But their people are 
our people, their riches are our riches, their good name is 
a part of our reputation. 

"And if here on the banks of the beautiful river that 
for a thousand miles is the boundary and a bond between 
the central States of the Union, Cincinnati keej^s her high 
promises; her arts flourishing ; her industries thriving; her 
colleges and galk^ries famous ; her wealth and powers 
gracious, so that her glorj' goes abroad throughout the 
land, the array of cities about her shall share her splendor, 
which will not be that of one star among the clouds, but 
of a constellation shining in a luminous sky." 

It will be found impossible to describe the festivities 
of this extraordinary occasion in such a way as to do 
adequate justice to the festivities of this extraordinary 
occasion. 

Bob Morgan called for "three cheers for Halstead," which 
were given with a vim and a " tiger." 

" TUE EDITOR AS A DEAD-HEAD." 

Mr. W. S. Peterson, of the Warren Tribune, was the 
only orator from the country press who was afforded 



172 

opportniiity to address the company, the banquet being 
brouo;ht to a sudden termination by preconcerted arrange- 
ment. Mr. Peters!)n addressed himself to "the editor as 

a dead-head." 

Mr. Peterson said : 

, ** Mr. Chairman: 'The editor as a dead-head' is not a 
dead-head. [Laugliter.] T acknowledge that appearances 
are against him sometimes. [Laughter.] His pocket-book 
is always long enough, and never so i)reoccupied but what 
lie can find room in it for all the railroad passes that 
may be offered him. [Laughter.] When he goes to the 
agricultural fair he expects to c^arry in his pocket a ticket 
that is a little more liandsomely printed than other peo- 
ple's tickets, and which reads: Pass Jolin Smith, wife, 
and twelve small children. [Laughter.] And when he 
comes to a great city like Cincinnati, of course he expects 
to ride free on the street railroads, and expects Cincinnati 
to do her level l)cst (as slie has done) to entertain him. 
"Now, while apjx^arances are slightly against him, I do 
say that the editor is not a dead-head. He pays for all he 
gets. Why, gentlemen, you of the metropolitan journals, 
how could you ever get your papers into circulation if the 
country editor did not publish over a column prospectus 
for you every new year? [Laughter.] You gentlemen 
who run the railroads, how could you expect to succeed 
if the country editor antagonized your line? 

"Gentlemen, considering all the free advertising we do 
for the churches, for the benevolent enterprises, for the 



173 

Suiulav-sclionls, lor tin- It'iiipcraiicc societies, tlir country 
LHlitor fully expects, when kingdom comes, that St. Peter 
will say to him, 'Well done, .u'oo'l ami I'aithlnl seivant.' " 
]Mr. Peters(»n had hardly finished his entertain ini^r re- 
marks, when tile gri'at moial and physical (engine of the 
"incline i>lane" shrieked out shrill, loud and long — it was 
the midnigid signal for the w<trkmen and note of departuic 
of the last regular car of the l>aymiller street line. Its 
effect extinguished the tires of oratory uj) to that moment 
hurning in the hosoms ()f the anxious ones set down for 
responses, and it put the whole com)>any to (light. Some 
of our country friends imagiiUMl the infeiiial thing a sort 
of last tnnnp. 'J'he icsiu'rection of rising up was complete. 
The ban(|uet was at an end. 

II. 

I publish the following letter as a matter of geneial 

interest :' 

kuo.m kansas ( tiy. 

"Kansas Pacific Railway, 

"CJENKUAL PasSKN(;1-;U and TiCKIOT DKi'Airr.MKNT, 

"Kansas City, IMo., July 11, IS7!I. 
[(yurres|)oi)(l(M)ce of the Djiyton Joiunal.] 
'■ ir. /). Bicklmni., Esq., Editor of the Journal, Daijton, Ohio: 

"My Dkak Sir: I take i)leasure in acknowk-dging the 
receipt of coi)ies of your excelk'iit JoiiiXAL: containing 
entertaining letters <lescriptive of the agricultural and 
gc^^nic attractions which C4m(3 under your ohservatiou 



174 

during your ride over our line. I believe just sucli let- 
ters, besides being full ol" interest to the general reader, 
are eminently ealeulated to be of material Ijenelit to a large 
elass of hard-working peo]>le wlio are living from hand to 
mouth in erowded eities, without a prospect of ever being- 
able to improve tlieir condition where they are. There 
are numy mechanics, laborers, and farmers who fail to 'get 
on in the world' simply because they have no chance of 
doing so. For instance, a mechanic witli a family (as all 
good men ought to have) can hardly expect to lay up 
much for a rainy day (jn the ordinary wages paid unskilled 
labor, or that i)aid skilled labor in these days of sharj) 
competition. Nor, indeed, can the farm-hand reasonably 
expect from the })roceeds of his daily toil to purchase a 
farm in localities where lands are held at high valuations. 
While, unless circumstances of climate justify it, I would 
not advise a well-to-do farmer or mechanic to make a 
change of location, there are thousands of men whose 
condition would be materially bettered by removing to a 
country where lands can l)e i)r()curcd under the various 
national laws for the disposal of the pu])lic domain, or 
purchased at small cost of the various land-grant railways. 
I contend that a man with a few hundred dollars can 
come to Kansas and become a successful, and, in a great 
measure, independent farmer in a very few years, whereas 
it might take an entire life time of har<l toil to accomplish 
the same result in older and more expensive lands. Such 
people are liable thorough sickuess or misfortune to become 



I/O 

a charge upon tlieir friends or the inililie, whereas if they 
owned their farms of eiglity or one hunth-ed an<l sixty 
acres anywhere, they would be independent, and conse- 
quently better citizens. The public presses of the country 
have done much already to point out to this class the way 
to a moderate success, and to the newspapers is largely 
due the location of so many thousand people on the fertile 
lands of Kansas and the Great West. 

''In writing this letter I intended merely to acknowledge 
your admirable articles; but the great interest I have in 
seeing the people of small means scattered all over our 
country avail themselves of the cheap lands now open to 
occupation in Kansas, lead me to these more extended 
observations. I trust you passed an agreeable season in 
the West, and hope 1 may have the pleasure of meeting 

you again, 

"Truly yours, 

"P. B. Groat, 

" General Priiisenger and Ticket Agent 
''Kansas Pacific Railway."' 

III. 

THE EXCUESIONISTS. 

Following is a roll of the Ohio editors and their families 
who went to the mountains, namely : 

ISAAC F. MACK, editor of the Sandusky Register, and President of 
the Ohio Editorial Association; accompanied by his wife. 

WM. C. McCLI^'T<.)CK and wife, Secretary of the Association, Star, 
Lebanon. 

13 



17B 

M. S. BRYAN and two daughters, Democrat, London. 

E. S. WILSON and wife, Ironton Register. 

JAMES 0. AMOS and two daughters, Shelby County Democrat, Sidney. 

.1. T. IRVIN, wife and two children, Zanesville Signal. 

W. P. MILLIGAN and wife. Herald, Washington C. H. 

■J. L. BOARDMAN and daughter, Hillsboro' News. 

THOMAS WETZLER, wife and daughter, Lancaster Eagle. 

W. B. HEARN and wife, Cadiz Republican. 

H. B. KELLEY, wife and daughter, Lima Democrat. 

GEORGE W. RUNYAN and wife, London Record. 

A. W. MILLER, wife and son, Kenton Rei)ubiican. 

ISAAC MORRIS, daughter and niece, Piqua Helmet. 

W. F. ALBRIGHT and daughter, Eaton Register. 

A. McGregor, wife and daughter, Canton Democrat. 

.J C. KINNEY and wife, Sandusky Journal. 

D.AVID D. TAYLOR, wife and children, Guernsey Times, 

P. P. MAST and wife. Farmer's Fireside, Springfield. 

L. L. DE FREES, wife and sister, Miami Union, Troy. 

WINTHROP FRAZER and wife, New Richmond Independent. 

J. J. STR.AN.AHAN and wife. Chagrin Falls Exponent. 

G. S. CANFIELD and sister, Toledo Journal. 

J. B. MARTIN and wife, Medina Gazette. 

CHARLES BROWNING and wife, Clinton Republican, Washington. 

E. R. ALDERMAN and son, Treasurer, Register, Marietta. 

JAMES TIMMONS, Perrysburg Journal. 

M. OSBORN, Messenger, Fremont. 

I M. KEELER, Journal, Freemont. 

P. KNERR, Courier, Fremont. 

WILLIAM. H KEPPEL, Evening Herald, Tiffin. 

J. W. MEYERS, Dispatch, Columbus. 

W. D. BRICK ELL, Dispatch, Columbus. 

\V H. BONSALL, Tribune, Portsmouth. 

JAMES D. McCLINTOCK, Register, New Vienna. 



177 

J. H. DRENON, Ohio Valley News, Martiirs Ferry. 
GEORGE WASHBURN, Republican, Elyria. 
FREDERICK DICKENSHEET, Journal, Sidney. 
THOMAS WETZLER, wife and dau,s;hter. Eagle, Lancaster. 
W. H. GILMORE, Review, Shiloh. 

B. O. ELIFRITZ, Transcript, Springfield. 
T. E. HORSWOOD, Gazette, Springfield. 

E. R. MONFORT and child. Herald and Presbyter, Cincinnati. 
SAMUEL MARSFIELD, Union Herald, Circleville. 

W. D. BICKHaM, Journal, Dayton. 
WILL S. BICKHAM, Journal, Dayton. 
FREDERICK FIESEl%, Westhote, Columbus. 
J. Q. A. CAMPBELL, Republican, Bellefontaine. 

C. D. CAMPBELL, Republican, Lima. 

W. W. REDFIELD, Experiment, Norwalk. 
JOHN M. AMOS, Press, Caldwell. 
WILLIAM 3'. HARPER, Banner, Mt. Vernon. 
C. C WILKINSON, Republican, Mt. Vernon. 
INI. F. EDWARDS, Free Press, Fredericktown. 
J. V. LAWLER, Carroll Chronicle, CarroUton. 
GEORGE FELTZ, Courier, Lima. 
L. RE[)FIELD, Experiment, Norwalk. 
J. P. YOCKEY, Signal, Fulton. 
FERDINAND LEE, Gazette, Jetier.son. 
ALFRED .MATTHEWS, Herald, Delaware. 
CHARLES B. WEBB, Journal, Garrettsville. 

F. S. REEFY, Constitution, Elyria. 

F. M. REITZEL, Chronicle, Warren. 
W. E. OSBORNE, Gazette, Paulding. 
FRANK G. THOM.SON, Gazette, Delaware. 
A. J. BETOUT, Democrat, Toledo. 
ALLEN LEVERING, Register, Mt. Giliad. 

G. S. CANFIELD and sister. Journal, Toledo. 



ITS 

JOHN G. GREENE, Gazetfe, Medina. 

M. J. LAWRENCE, Ohio Farmer, Cleveland. 

A. W. SEARCH, Age, Coshocton. 

T. J. NEWMAN, Courier, Zanesville. 

AUGUST THIEME, Wachter and Erie, Cleveland. 

C. F. PALMER, Review, Westerville. 

E. N. FRESHMAN and wife, guests, Cincinnati. 



IV. 



Among incidents during our brief halt on Pike's Peak^ 
I mention that a telegram in the name of the Ohio editors, 
sending greetings to the President and Mrs. Hayes, was 
forwarded from the Signal Station, The President has 
since informed me that the dispatch was received and 
promptly answered, but the editors having fled precipi- 
tately from the inclement Peak did not receive the reply. 



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